


If You Teach a Fish to Man

by Saasan



Series: If You Teach a Fish [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Awkward Romance, Demisexual!Keith, Demisexuality, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Fluff, Humor, I swear to god this fic is funnier than its tags, Keith is not as good at humaning as he thinks he is, Lance (Voltron) is a Good Friend, Lance is a wingman, Little Mermaid Elements, M/M, Mutual Pining, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prince!Shiro, Slow Burn, gay disaster shiro, merman!keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-06-18 22:18:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 70,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15495900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saasan/pseuds/Saasan
Summary: Keith hasn't seen Hero in almost a year and the humans on the docks aren't gossiping sufficiently (curse them), so the merman has decided to take matters into his own hands.  He didn't save the man from drowning just to have him disappear, after all!  Now equipped with a fresh set of legs, he's ready to find out Hero's fate.  Providing, of course, he can make it off the beach.





	1. Local Prince Takes Naked Hottie to Bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I know the human being and fish can co-exist peacefully.”  
> ― George W. Bush

It was common sense that one should never consult sea witches and one should _definitely_ not drink any potions said witches might supply, but Keith was known for his bravery and impulsiveness—not his patience or intellect—so it was no surprise that he had gotten himself into a Predicament. Namely, there were bizarre things called “feet” on the end of his new legs and Keith was pretty sure they very, very malformed. What the heck was with these wiggly almost-but-not-really finger things?! The merman had spent a good ten minutes trying to get them to work properly, but the damn things were too stubby to be useful for _anything_. He could barely pick up a shell, and that was only when he curled the not-fingers as far as possible. Thank Neptune humans wore those clompy boot things—if he was careful, he could hide the horrible not-fingers.

 

Provided he could find boots.

 

So basically he was screwed, and he hadn’t even left the beach yet.

 

Well, he wasn’t going to give up this early. If he waited until it was dark, maybe no one would see his feet-fingers. In the meantime, he could practice walking. Humans walked, after all. He needed to be good at it if he wanted to keep his true identity a secret. He’d seen people walk—how hard could it be?

 

Very hard, apparently, he realized as his face hit the ground the fourth time.   He spat out sand and growled in frustration. How did people keep their weight shifted when their legs moved? This was ridiculous. You didn’t need to balance underwater! Maybe it was because of the feet-fingers. Dammit. He wasn’t going to be fooling anyone at this rate. Hell, he wasn’t even going to make it to town.

 

He sighed as he sat up and pushed his hair out of his face. It felt weird dry—stiff and tangled and it got in his face whenever the wind blew. He braided it and tied it off with a stalk of seaweed. One problem solved. Now: time to get up and try walking again.

 

It was almost sunset by the time he could walk. Sort of. He had practiced sitting up on his knees and then scoot-walking that way (so he didn’t have as far to fall down) and that helped him find the rhythm of when to move which leg. After that, he had made it to a series of rocky outcroppings and was able to support himself on them (eventually with only one hand!). Progress. He steeled himself and launched toward a boulder and managed to stay upright for the three steps it took to reach it. Okay, so it wasn’t really walking, but he was moving his legs fast. That was like…running, right? Fancy walking! He could do this.

 

He looked out across the water to where the town was, opposite him on the bay, and finally admitted to his second poor decision of the day: he should have picked a closer beach.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

_Shiro was under it again—dark light nearly suffocated by depth and churning water. It was pulling. The ropes, the weeds, the blood. It hurt it hurt it hurt and he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t—_

 

He woke up gasping, sweat-soaked and crying. Fuck. He’d thought he was over this. His arm was hurting. The _missing_ one. He lay still and focused on his breathing, keeping it slow and even. After five minutes, he felt well enough to sit up. Sighing, he untangled himself from his sheets (probably where the “ropes” came from) and swung his legs over the side of the bed. There would be no more sleep this night.

 

Shiro washed his face and got dressed. Maybe he should read reports or answer letters, do something productive. Or, since he would have to do more of that in the morning anyway, maybe he should go for a walk. The air was pleasant out and the sea was calm—and the night did not have any paperwork for him to sign. Yup. Going with Option 2.

 

Once outside, Shiro felt better. He nodded to the guards as he slipped outside the castle. They were used to his walks by now. After the…the accident, no one had wanted him to leave the castle unattended—suicide watch, though they’d never admit to it—but now no one questioned him. It was his one bitter prize.

 

He shook away the self-pity. It was a lovely night and it was early enough that the pubs would still be open. He could stop in at one of his favorites, enjoy a mug of ale and maybe listen to a few shanties, if someone was singing.

 

He could still handle that much, at least.

 

He was grateful that those who recognized him left him alone—a few nods of the head and a handful of “evening, my lord” and that was all. The illusion of anonymity was a blessing. He wondered sometimes if he had known the people the faces belonged to before, if they were part of the things he’d forgotten. He remembered how to find his way to his favorite pub, however, and that was enough for now.

 

The Quintessence was always a lively place, but it was especially active as Shiro approached it. A swaying figure was in the street, surrounded by half a dozen patrons, all of whom were talking excitedly. Another drunk causing trouble by the looks of it. Curious, Shiro approached the circle outside the pub.

 

“What’s going on here?” he asked.

 

The circle parted to make room for him and the swaying figure looked up.

 

“Hero!” the figure cried, his face breaking out into the brightest, most dazzling smile possible.

 

And then the most beautiful creature Shiro had ever seen fell stumbling into him.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

It was completely dark by the time Keith had reached town and, let’s face it, he was really getting the hang of this walking thing. Provided he could get some clothes, he’d be _totally_ indistinguishable from real humans. He knew from his years of careful watching that humans owned more than one pair clothes, so it was a simple matter of asking to borrow some—he would be sure to return them later.

 

Well, it _should_ have been a simple matter, but the first people he approached, a pair of women talking on a porch, had screamed when he greeted them and then run inside, slamming the door. They must have seen his feet.

 

He looked down at the offending appendages. They admittedly looked much worse now—swollen and bleeding from the long walk and sharp rocks. Utterly useless. No wonder people rode horses! He found a towel hanging out to dry and tore it into strips to tie around his deformity. He tried to apologize to the owner of said towel but they yelled at him for being a “crazy, naked bastard” and threatened to hit him with a broom if he didn’t leave, which was perfectly idiotic because the whole point of everything was that he was trying to _not_ be naked. Whatever.

 

His journey was not satisfactory. By the time he’d reached the middle of the town he’d attracted a lot of attention and none of it was helpful. Mostly people wanted to know if he was drunk, which was an odd question. He was a bit thirsty—he would like _to_ drink—but how could a person _be_ drunk? Asking that didn’t help, either.

 

And then—emerging from the night like the specter of a god—came Hero. Hero, the human he’d made this entire trip to see, the human who instantly made every step, every stumble worth the pain and effort. Alive. Hero was _alive_!

 

Without thinking, he cried Hero’s name and surged forward.

 

And tripped on his stupid, stupid feet.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

“Whoa, careful there,” Shiro said, steadying the drunk (and naked) boy with his arm. “You’ve had a bit too much to drink I think.” He fought off a blush and carefully avoided looking down.

 

“Not recently,” the boy grinned, “but it might be nice later.”

 

“So what’s going on, then?” Shiro asked, looking around at the circle.

 

“He’s a drunk,” one person offered.

 

No shit.

 

“He was asking for clothes,” another said.

 

What a shock.

 

“And no one thought to give him any?” Shiro said to nobody in particular, shrugging off his coat and offering it to the boy. The dazzling smile turned even brighter.

 

(Shiro’s blush was getting brighter, too.)

 

“You’re alive,” the boy said.

 

“Yes, thank you, so are you,” Shiro agreed. Very drunk. He cleared his throat. “Do you need help getting that on?” He gestured to his coat which the boy was still clutching.

 

The boy stared at the coat blankly before straightening up. “No,” he said firmly, “I can put on a coat. By myself,” he added, a bit too loudly. He made a great show of shaking out the item of clothing, examining the sleeves, and deliberating threading his arms through them. Once finished, he grinned up at Shiro, looking so damn proud of himself that Shiro couldn’t help patting him on the shoulder and saying “Well done” even thought it was on backwards.

 

“Does anyone know which ship he belongs to?” Shiro asked, again consulting the circle. Drunk and naked should have meant a sailor on his first shore leave in months, but it seemed that no, there were only two ships in harbor right now and none of the sailors that had been consulted had ever seen the boy before.

 

“His feet are bleeding,” someone pointed out, which was not relevant to the boy’s identity but was a little concerning.

 

“Where are you from?” Shiro asked, addressing the boy again.

 

The boy blinked a few times. “The ocean,” he said at last. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yes, I’m fine,” Shiro chuckled. “It’s you I’m worried about.”

 

The boy blushed and looked down with a tiny smile and Shiro knew he was not going home alone tonight. _Not_ like that—it was just that he was way too ~~beautiful~~ vulnerable to leave alone.

 

(Really.)

 

“Well, we can’t have you wandering around naked and bleeding and drunk all night,” Shiro concluded. “Come on. Let’s see if we can’t fix you up.”

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

Someone had brought them a horse. Keith had never ridden on a horse before! He immediately regretted telling Hero. Didn’t humans ride horses all the time? Sweet Neptune, he was going to get caught. Not that it really mattered—he’d found out what he’d needed to—but he was not going to turn down an opportunity to talk with Hero. Thankfully, Hero had just chuckled his wonderful chuckle and was this what heaven was like? Keith was pretty sure this was what heaven was like.

 

“I’m having a wonderful time,” he told Hero. Hero was walking beside him, which was the only thing Keith didn’t like because Keith could walk just fine and shouldn’t Hero be one riding? But Hero said he didn’t think the horse would like to carry both of them and the person with bleeding feet should be the one to ride, and if those were the human rules Keith was definitely going to follow them.

 

Hero chuckled again. “You know what? I am, too. What’s your name?”

 

“Keith,” he replied proudly.

 

“Nice to meet you, Keith. My name’s Shiro,” the beautiful human smiled.

 

“ _No_!” Keith cried in wide-eyed horror. Hero’s name was Hero. Keith knew it. He’d heard someone call him that! Of course, he’d been pretty far away and underwater at the time, but still.

 

“It’s definitely Shiro, sorry,” should-be-Hero said apologetically.

 

“Okay…,” Keith said slowly, unconvinced. Maybe it was a nickname.

 

“So, Keith-from-the-ocean, what made you decide to come to town tonight?” maybe-Shiro asked.

 

Keith opened and immediately shut his mouth. What were human reasons? He couldn’t exactly say he’d come to make sure Hero was alive, could he? That would be too weird. It’s not like Hero even knew who Keith was. So, human reasons for being in town.

 

“Clothes,” he said at last. “And dancing,” he added hurriedly. Only humans danced! Nailed it.

 

“Is that why your feet are bleeding? The dancing?” possibly-Hero asked, concerned.

 

Keith scoffed. “I am _great_ at dancing,” he insisted. He was definitely the best dancer in the world! Provided he never had to prove it!

 

“Then how did you hurt your feet?”

 

“Walking.” Oops. Fuck. “I’m great at walking,” Keith quickly corrected.

 

“I know, I’ve seen it,” okay-fine-it’s-Shiro smiled, making Keith practically burst with pride.

 

“I practiced all day,” he confided shyly, which was such a stupid thing to say because he was a human who didn’t need to practice and had walked a lot before now. But by the seven seas, Shiro laughed again and that was all that mattered anyway, so everything was fine.

 

Being human was amazing. Keith was definitely going to stay human for a while, even if Pidge yelled at him for it.

 

(Pidge was definitely going to yell at him for it.)

 

Also, no matter what ~~Hero~~ Shiro said, he wasn’t really okay. Keith could see it. He was ecstatic that Shiro was alive, but…something was wrong. Maybe it was because of the missing arm (he’d been worried that might happen), but Keith had been watching Shiro for years and he _knew_ that something was very, very wrong. Keith was going to find out what it was and, if it all possible, fix it.

 

And Pidge couldn’t yell at him about _that_.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

After a night with almost no sleep Shiro felt and probably looked like shit. He’d put Keith in his bedroom because fuck it, he didn’t want to bother with finding a guestroom with clean sheets. Come to think of it, his sheets probably weren’t clean, either. Whatever. The important thing was he’d gotten Keith settled, which had been more of a challenge than he’d anticipated. Keith had been surprisingly catty when Shiro had tried to remove the bloodied scraps to clean and rebind his injuries—whoever had done the initial bandaging must have been someone he trusted, because as incredibly amiable (and unsteady) as Keith had been, he was almost vicious with his insistence that Shiro go nowhere near his feet. Shiro had decided that if Keith still had that much spunk in him, he was probably not too injured and after giving him a nightshirt and a basin of water, left him to clean himself off and put himself to bed.

 

Come to think of it, why did Keith have bandages on his feet but no clothes? Who had tended to him and then let him wander off? _Someone_ must be looking for him. Well, he’d deal with that after the kid woke up. In the meantime, Shiro should probably eat something instead of idly pushing breakfast around with his fork.

 

“Heard you brought home a drunk boy last night. Good for you.”

 

Shiro glanced up from his plate and rolled his eyes at his friend and valet, Lance. “Good morning to you, too. So long as you’re spreading rumors, would you mind phrasing it ‘Local Man Escorts Inebriated Citizen to Safety, City Grateful’?”

 

“Yikes, that’s boring,” Lance quipped. “I’ll stick with ‘Local Prince Takes Naked Hottie to Bed’.”

 

Shiro snorted, smiling despite himself. “Considering only one of us actually spent the night there, I’m not sure it counts for much.”

 

Lance flopped into the chair beside Shiro’s. “You don’t really get how this rumor thing works,” he grumbled, folding his arms.

 

Shiro chuckled. “And I suppose you intend on enlightening me. What other exploits did I get up to?”

 

“I don’t know,” Lance said, studying Shiro’s face and suddenly looking worried. “If he was in your bed, where were you?”

 

Shiro sighed as he shifted in his chair and stabbed a piece of scrambled egg. “It was a bad night.”

 

Lance nodded. “Okay, well that answers my next question.”

 

“Which was…?” Shiro asked, arching an eyebrow.

 

“I thought you might have brought someone back to stir up rumors because Adam is coming,” Lance said. He pulled out a bundle of letters he’d tucked into his breast pocket and dropped it on the table.

 

“Will you please stop reading my mail?” Shiro said with a heavy sigh.

 

“I will if you _start_ reading it,” Lance retorted.

 

“I read them, I just don’t write back. Wow, at least stick with the official ones,” Shiro said as he sorted through the stack. “Half of these are from my sister.”

 

“Who is the Commissioner of Trade, thus making all of her letters potentially official,” Lance said reasonably. “Anyway, it’s not like he’s coming to see _you_ , and he’s not going to be here for at least another month since he’s doing an inspection of all the island towns. You want me to answer these?” he asked, picking up a few scattered envelopes.

 

Shiro shrugged. “Anything important you can put back on my desk. And stop reading the ones from my sister,” he added, but without much feeling.

 

“Absolutely, my Lord,” Lance said crisply. “And will his Highness be needing me to attend to his Inebriatedness, or do you want to deal with the drunky?”

 

Right. The kid would probably wake up soon.

 

“I don’t think any of my clothes will fit him. Would you please lend him something of yours until we figure out what to do with him? And make sure he gets something to eat,” Shiro said.

 

“Right-o then,” Lance said, rising and giving an exaggerated bow, “I’ll leave you to breakfast. Providing you’re planning to do more than push stuff around your plate. Do you want to crush Hunk’s spirit? Is that what you’re going for? Because he put his _soul_ into that toast, let me tell you.”

 

“You made this, didn’t you?” Shiro grinned. Hunk, the castle’s cook, put his soul into all things he cooked, and he would never make a breakfast of only eggs and toast.

 

Lance muttered something as he left, thoroughly answering Shiro’s question.

 

In an odd way, Shiro was feeling better than he had in weeks. The dream and the sleepless night were wearing on him, but Lance’s cheerful presence helped and the bizarre encounter with Keith was distracting.

 

Keith. What an odd meeting. He was, frankly, an adorable drunk (and perhaps adorable in general). He was a little bit clingy and a whole lot happy, and his good humor was infectious. Shiro did not envy the massive hangover that was surely in his future. Poor kid. He was bound to be feeling terrible anyway, based on the number of scrapes and abrasions Shiro had seen covering his arms and knees—not to mention his feet. Shiro shuddered to think how long the drunk boy had been walking on the bleeding wounds, and now without alcohol in his system, he would surely be miserable.

 

Well, hopefully the kid wouldn’t be doing too poorly. He’d been good company and Shiro would be lying if he said he didn’t find him incredibly attractive. It was the best kind of distraction, something Shiro sorely craved.

 

Huh. Maybe _he_ should get drunk more often.

 

No, he wasn’t there. Not yet anyway. Maybe after Adam arrived. Fuck it. Shiro pushed his plate away. He wasn’t hungry.

 

Shiro nearly left the room before circling back and grabbing the toast. Lance had put his soul in it, after all. Munching on the toast, he headed into the hall just in time to hit Lance in the nose with the door.

 

“Shit! I’m sorry Lance,” Shiro cursed. He fumbled in his pockets and found a handkerchief to give the valet.

 

“Oh! Uh, hey,” Lance said, clutching his nose and taking the offered cloth. “Any chance Kevin—”

 

“Keith?”

 

“—any chance Keith likes to play hide and seek? And has a really terrible sense of humor? And maybe some red paint?”

 

“Why? What did he do?” Shiro asked, too alarmed by Lance’s nose to fully appreciate the worrying nature of his friend’s questions.

 

Lance laughed uneasily. “Well, I’m hoping he didn’t murder anyone, but your sheets are a bloody mess and he’s, uh, missing.”

 

“What?” Shiro asked. _Shit_ the kid was probably so drunk he didn’t know how he’d ended up bleeding in a stranger’s bed, his clothes nowhere to be seen. “Dammit, there’s no way he’s okay to be wandering around on his own. Find out if anyone’s seen him—he’s got to still be in the castle,” he said frantically.

 

Lance nodded and they split up, Shiro charging down the hall while Lance scurried in the opposite direction.

 

Shiro gritted his teeth, berating himself for not considering the implications of Keith’s circumstances. _Of course_ he’d think the worst, waking up like that! That poor kid! Wherever he’d hidden himself, he was probably terrified. Shiro owed him one hell of an apology.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

“Pidge! Pidge! Look what I can do!” Keith cried happily as he scrambled down the rocks to the secluded pool she’d hidden herself in.

 

“Hi, Keith! Good to see y—for the love of _Neptune_ put your genitals away,” the mermaid grimaced.

 

“I can’t,” Keith said apologetically as he splashed into the water, stopping before he submerged his waist. “Human genitals can’t hide, but the hangy ball things can sort of go in, see?” He demonstrated on himself. “They come right back out, though.”

 

Pidge covered her eyes and groaned. “That is fascinating but I cannot stress enough how much I _never_ needed to see that.”

 

Keith shrugged and flopped into the water. “Didn’t want to get my clothes wet—I borrowed them.”

 

Keith had been far too excited to sleep. After barely fending off ~~Hero’s~~ Shiro’s kind attentions to his feet, he had sat on the bed, staring around the room in pure wonder, afraid to touch anything. Well, anything except himself. He had long suspected that human genitals where constantly outside the body, thanks to several statues he’d seen in shipwrecks (and a few skinny-dippers), so he wasn’t too alarmed by the flopping things, but he was nonetheless both curious and unimpressed. His mer cock was much bigger than this sad thing. Poor humans. No wonder they were always so sex-starved.

 

Eventually bored with that portion of his anatomy, Keith attempted to practice walking again, but after crashing into a dresser, decided to find a quieter activity, like finding the best way out of the home cave and down to the beach. He slipped on the sleeping shirt that Shiro had left him (not only did humans have more than one pair of clothes, but they had clothes to wear when they weren’t doing anything! Absurd! They must hate being naked) and took the precaution of borrowing a pair of boots. Better to be safe than sorry, in the event someone saw his feet.

 

“So what’s your progress?” Pidge asked, pushing a long lock of hair out of her eyes. Keith gestured her forward and she scooted closer and turned so he could redo her braid.

 

“Hero’s alive!” Keith grinned. He started untangling her hair. Why she didn’t just cut it all off, he’d never know. Sure, merfolk had long hair as a general thing, but Pidge wasn’t exactly one for sticking with the usual way of doing things, hence her being willing to help him out with his adventure. “Isn’t that amazing? Humans are so fragile. He’s all scared up and his hair is white now, but he’s alive.”

 

“Holy urchins. You found that all out already? That’s great, Keith! Does this mean you’re done now?” Pidge said excitedly, fidgeting more than was helpful for the start of her braid.

 

“No, I’m going to stay for a little bit,” Keith said, knowing full well he was about to be scolded. “He’s alive, but… well, he’s sad. He’s really, really sad.”

 

Even without seeing her face, Keith knew Pidge was frowning. “So? That’s too bad and all, but the whole point of this was to know what happened after you brought him to the beach. Wait, how do you know that he has white hair now? Did someone tell you or did you _see_ him?”

 

“I met him!” Keith said happily. He took out his seaweed tie from his own hair and finished Pidge’s braid. “He’s _super_ nice. He took me back to his home cave! It’s _huge_! And there are lots of humans living in it and they’re his servants or something.”

 

Pidge turned back around and looked at him, studying critically. “You’re stupider than usual,” she said at last, shaking her head.

 

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Keith protested.

 

“Exactly what I said,” Pidge said shrugging. “Look, I agreed to help you with this because you wouldn’t stop swimming around the docks, and I knew you’d keep doing dumb things until you found out if he was okay. So I figured, you’d turn human for a few days—at _max_ —and then stop putting yourself in crazy amounts of danger, but here you are. Not only have you learned Hero is alive—you’ve actually _met_ him, you’re living at his cave, and you’re planning to stay there. You’re stupid, and you’re going to get caught.”

 

“Pidge, I’m walking,” Keith countered. “You saw me! And I can jump, too. I’ve been human for less than a day and I _rode a horse_.”

 

“You rode a horse?” Pidge said, curiosity getting the best of her.

 

“Yes, and it was _awesome_ ,” Keith grinned. “Listen, I know you think I’m crazy, but I promise I’ll check in with you everyday, and if I can’t actually make it to the beach, I’ll signal you, okay? And I’m going to bring you back a wheelie piece. A _working_ wheelie piece.”

 

That got the mermaid’s attention. Pidge had an intense interest in all things human-made, but she had a particular weakness for the little metal circles that were full of wheels. She had theorized they were supposed to calculate something. Keith thought they were some kind of noise makers. They’d found several of them in shipwrecks over the years but Pidge—to her immense frustration—had never gotten one to work.

 

“Fine. Provided you get me a wheelie piece, you can stay,” she concluded. “But for the love of Neptune, don’t forget to dunk yourself in water everyday or the spell will break and you’ll get stuck up there, and you can bet your tail _I’m_ not getting land. Not even for a hundred wheelie pieces.”

 

“Thanks boss,” Keith said, rolling his eyes. Pidge was his best friend and partner-in-crime: there was no way she was ever going to “tattle” on him. And it’s not like he was doing anything wrong! Merfolk avoided humans out of a matter of safety, not because interaction was forbidden.

 

(And let’s face it: neither of them had ever cared much about safety.)

 

“Anyway! Let me show you how high I can jump!” Keith cried eagerly, standing up.

 

“Ohhhh that’s okay,” Pidge said, shielding her eyes. “Are you _absolutely_ certain humans don’t have a slit for that stuff?” She gestured vaguely at Keith’s swinging bits.

 

“Pidge, land animals don’t have that. You’ve seen dogs and horses and stuff. This is normal,” Keith said, wading toward the edge of the pool.

 

“Doesn’t mean I want to see it,” Pidge mumbled.

 

“Stop being a baby. It’s not like they’re aroused or anything,” Keith said as he crawled onto a rock.   “Now watch me jump!” Keith launched himself forward, landing in the water with a spectacular splash.

 

“Keith you idiot you’re bleeding,” Pidge said, trying to act annoyed instead of worried as she ducked under the water to grab Keith’s ankle and exam his foot.

 

“Yeah, but it doesn’t hurt,” Keith shrugged. “I’ll just wrap them again later.”

 

Pidge smacked her forehead. “Do you have any idea what was in that potion you drank? Because I do, and it had answeed oil—you know, so you didn’t _pass out from pain_ when you transformed.”

 

“Which means…?”

 

“Which means _nothing_ hurts right now.   How long has it been since you drank the potion?” Pidge asked, now definitely worried.

 

“Uh, close to a day?” Keith said, trying to calculate. He’d taken the potion late in the morning the day before, and it was still early morning now.

 

“Get out of the pool,” Pidge said, shoving him. “ _Now_.”

 

“Hey! What’re you doing?!” Keith protested.

 

“You need to get back up to the cave or wherever before your feet start hurting, because that answeed oil isn’t going to last forever. Seriously, get moving! You can tell me everything else tomorrow, or more like in a week because I’m pretty sure you won’t be able to walk on those things for a while,” Pidge said, now practically dragging Keith out of the water.

 

“Fine, fine, I get it,” Keith acquiesced. He wanted to go see Hero/Shiro anyway.

 

Keith climbed out of the pool and waved goodbye before heading up the stony beach to where he’d left his clothes.

 

“And don’t forget my wheelie piece!” Pidge called out after him. She slapped the water with her tail and was gone.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to take this moment to say: I am fucking terrified of sharks. Borders on phobia. I also love the ocean. It’s conflicting thing. Like, I love going to aquariums and I adore tide pooling, but uh… NOPE. Not swimming. Maybe in a protected cove where the water is clear. I have gone snorkeling before, but I was freaking out the whole time. Ugh. I also love bullshit pirate stuff and sea shanties and all that. BUT SHARKS. 
> 
> (I still want to live by the ocean someday, though.)
> 
> (I mean, I’m a freaking seal so I better love the ocean.)
> 
> I know shit all about ships. So, that will take research…and probably a bit of bullshit. *cough cough*
> 
> I haven’t decided if Shiro loses his arm to a shark. It could really go either way at this point.
> 
> There will be eventual smut, but I feel I should warn y’all it will take a while. XD I know I usually deliver The Goods fairly early on.
> 
> This will also be a longer fic—more in the range of Shiro the Hero. 
> 
> I’m considering doing this fic and Shiro the Hero part 3 at the same time…alternating updates or something?? Because my balls keep getting grabbed by stories but that also means I keep putting off Shiro the Hero and I miiiiss it. Thoughts? Suggestions? High praise??? 
> 
> I’m a little worried Keith won’t be “right” in this story because he won’t be his badass self. He’ll love Shiro to the end of world, of course, but that’s only 50% of his real character, you know? *fingers crossed* 
> 
> Oh! Oh! And I’m making merfolk entirely demi-sexual for this. So, Keith isn’t exactly in love at the start of the story. He thinks Shiro is fucking gorgeous and he does know he likes guys as a rule, but that’s about it. Well, he does love Shiro, but not in the romantic sense at this point and he’s not hot in the pants for him. Lmao he’s not in any pants. 
> 
> Disaster Gay Shiro falls pretty damn fast. It doesn’t hurt that he’s super depressed at this point, so he clings to Keith like a life preserver. Yay. Swimming metaphors.
> 
> Fair warning: I intend to be stupid in this fic pretty much constantly (with occasional spikes of angst, mostly from Shiro). And there will be fish quotes at the start of every chapter that have little to nothing to do with the story.
> 
> I wanted to make Matt Shiro’s friend instead of Lance, but I wanted Pidge to be Keith’s buddy. Also, this way we get more of Lance’s dialogue, which is my jam. 
> 
> That’s sufficient rambling for now! 
> 
> Loooooove you guys. <33333


	2. Is that our love burning or just my skin?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Shiro is very manly, Keith needs more rescuing than he first suspected, and Lance is having a lot of fun watching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: Small trigger warning for panic attack (not a full-on PTSD event).
> 
>  
> 
> “I never understood why you would ever feel the need to shoot the fish in the barrel. I mean, they're in a barrel, you've already caught them. The hard work's done, they can't escape. So if you want them dead, just drain the water out. Why bring guns into it?”  
> ― Craig Silvey, Jasper Jones

Keith wasn’t in the castle. Shiro had searched for an hour—and had forced everyone he found to search, too—and even though no one had seen him leave, Shiro could only assume he’d escaped undetected. Shit.

 

Lance started organizing search parties to cover the forests and to check in town.

 

“Maybe you should get some rest,” Lance said. “You didn’t sleep last night and... It shows.”

 

Shiro gave his friend a tired smile. “That bad, huh? Well, I’m not going to go far.”

 

“Alright, if you say so,” Lance said, shrugging.

 

It was one of the things Shiro liked about Lance—he let Shiro make his own bad decisions. It was a welcome contrast to people’s usual attitude: overly-cautious handling of the fragile prince. Someone more “well-meaning” would have insisted that he go rest, but it wasn’t like Shiro would have been able to sleep anyway and besides, he had a hunch. Keith’s braid had been tied with seaweed and his hair had been stiff with sea salt and he’d smelled not unpleasantly like the tide—not to mention the boy claimed to have come from the sea. If he’d left the castle but hadn’t gone to town, he was probably on the beach.

 

Which sucked.

 

The ocean didn’t usually bother him on clear days, but even before he’d let himself look out to the water Shiro knew it was a bad day. He could see a long stretch of beach from the castle wall and as much as possible he kept his eyes on the sand. No sign of the boy. If he’d left the castle from the north gate, however, he would have spied a trail that led to a more secluded cove, so that was where Shiro tried next and yup, halfway down the steep, carved stairs, sat Keith.

 

He looked tiny, huddled as he was, and he was still in the nightshirt Shiro had set out for him. Beside him was a pair of boots which was bizarre because why would he take boots without wearing them? Well, he was an odd kid.

 

“Keith!” Shiro called.

 

The braid whipped behind him as Keith looked around for the source of his name.

 

“Keith!” Shiro called again, starting down the steps.

 

“Hero!” the small man called back, and even at this distance Shiro could see the way his face brightened. Well, Keith might have bolted when he woke up alone in a stranger’s bed, but at least he remembered Shiro and didn’t seem to be frightened of him.

 

“Whoa, stay there,” Shiro said as he scrambled down the steps. Keith had grabbed the boots and tried to stand up and Shiro did not like the look of the way he teetered.

 

“I was bleeding in your boots, sorry,” Keith said. He hung his head, boots in hand.

 

“Why were you out here at all?” Shiro asked in exasperation.

 

“To swim,” the boy whispered.

 

“Are you insane?! Never do that!” Shit, he must sound angry. The kid was practically turning inside himself with how hunched his shoulders were. Shiro took a deep breath and tried again. “Don’t go in the ocean when you’re bleeding, okay? It’s very dangerous. And don’t wander off without telling anyone where you are, especially when you’re hurt! You scared us. We didn’t know where you were or how to find you. I thought you’d _left_.”

 

Keith looked up, his eyes large. “I would never leave you, Shiro,” he said.

 

And wow. That set Shiro blushing. There was such an honest, urgent truth in the way he said it, like it should have been obvious that Keith wouldn’t leave. And the _way_ he said Shiro’s name, like it was precious... Fuck, he was going to be far too weak to this kid, wasn’t he.

 

“Can you walk?” Shiro asked, helping Keith stand as best he could. It was hard to offer much help with only one arm.

 

“I can walk,” Keith growled, clearly offended. “I’m _great_ at walking.”

 

Shiro swallowed back a laugh. “I mean right now—you look like you’re in a lot of pain. Can you walk right now?”

 

“...no,” came the answer, tiny and with the hint of tears.

 

“Alright, that’s fine,” Shiro comforted. “Let’s sit back down. There are other people searching and they’ll be here soon.”

 

Keith sniffled and sat beside him, legs splayed out awkwardly. Wow. His feet must really be bad. They had bled through the bandages and holy shit he’d been leaving bloody footprints (and yet he’d been worried about bleeding in Shiro’s boots. Amazing). Shiro really didn’t fancy trying to carry Keith when he only had one arm to help steady him, but maybe he should risk it. Keith did not look well.

 

“How are you feeling?” Shiro asked softly. Was that sweat or water on the boy’s forehead? He’d clearly been swimming—his hair was still wet—but the flush of his face looked more like a fever. Shiro pressed the back of his hand to Keith’s forehead and the boy leaned into it.

 

“Better,” he murmured, which absolutely slayed Shiro.

 

“I think you have a fever,” Shiro told him. “We shouldn’t wait. Come on. Let’s see if I can carry you. Will you be able to keep your legs around me?”

 

“I can do _anything_ with my legs,” Keith said earnestly, unknowingly putting a thought or two in Shiro’s head that the prince opted to ignore.

 

“That’s good news,” Shiro told him. “Okay, legs around my waist and hook your ankles together—there you. Keep your arms around my neck—not that tight,” he chuckled. He tucked his arm under Keith’s ankles and prayed the sick boy would be able to hold on. He stood up cautiously.

 

And fuck fuck fuck, he’d looked too far out and had seen too much water and he swayed, dizzy and nauseous, and nearly dropped Keith over the side of the cliff.

 

“ _You’re_ not good at walking,” Keith’s voice informed him.

 

“You’ll have to teach me later,” Shiro said, somehow almost laughing despite himself.

 

“Mmm,” Keith’s voice came in a sleepy purr, and the soft breath that poured down Shiro’s neck sent a shiver down his spine. “Okay. We can practice together.”

 

“That sounds wonderful. Hang tight, okay?” Shiro steeled himself and began the climb back to the castle, focusing only on the next step in front of him. It helped to see Keith’s bound feet around his waist, the bandages red and horrifying. It kept his mind off the water. What mattered wasn’t the cliff or the ocean or the dream but just the next step. Just the next step closer to the closer the castle. Just the next step.

 

By the time he’d reached the top, Shiro could hear a search party nearby. He was almost reluctant to hand the sick boy over, but once free of the burden he nearly collapsed, nerves finally catching up to him. Attendants flocked to him but he waved them away. A few minutes of air and he’d be fine.

 

A few minutes of air and he’d be fine. Just some air and he’d. Be fine. Just needed air. He needed air. He needed air. _Air. He needed air. He needed_ —

 

“You’re fine big guy, you’re fine,” Lance’s voice soothed its way through his thoughts. “All I need is a few deep breaths, okay? In with me now, and out. In, and out.”

 

Shiro focused on Lance’s instructions. Slowly the tension left his body. There was air in his lungs. He was fine. The land was dry and the air was easy to pull in. In, and out. In, and out.

 

“How long was I out of it?” Shiro asked.

 

“Not long,” Lance promised. He was sitting next to Shiro, legs crossed and shoulders relaxed. It never failed to amaze the prince how easily his friend dealt with his attacks.

 

“How’s Keith?” he asked, starting to get up. He swayed and Lance looped his arm over his shoulder smoothly, like it had been planned to begin with.

 

“Oh, the little twerp was terrible. He did NOT want to leave you. I told him you were panicking because you were scared for him and he needed to see the doctor, which in retrospect was probably not okay, but his yelling wasn’t helping,” Lance shrugged. “I’ll apologize later.”

 

Shiro grimaced. “That poor kid.”

 

“Oh for the love of—he’ll be _fine_ , Shiro,” Lance insisted. “He’s probably just dehydrated and hungover. And his feet are injured. And he has a fever,” he added. “But the doctor is already on his way, so don’t worry about it.”

 

Shiro was going to worry about it.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

Keith did not know how or what a “doctor” was, but since everyone else seemed to know, he was smart enough not to ask. He was halfway through his examination and treatment with the shaman before he realized “Doctor” was the shaman’s name.

 

“They look pretty bad. I don’t know how you’ve been walking on these,” Doctor said, shaking his head and simultaneous filling Keith with pride and confirming his worst fears. He washed Keith’s misshapen feet carefully and requested his assistant hand him a towel. “Nothing looks infected, so that’s the good news. Let’s get these stitched up and then you, young mister, are staying in bed, you understand? No more beach walks.”

 

“And beach swims?” Keith asked bravely.

 

The shaman shook his head again. “Unbelievable,” he said.

 

“A little bit believable,” Keith mumbled to himself as he played with the edge of what he _totally_ already knew was a pillow (“I was just asking if _you_ knew what it was called,” he’d said, smoothly covering for himself). He was pleased to know he’d been using the bed correctly—head on the cushy bits!

 

Keith bit the pillow and tried not to cry as the shaman began stitching up the cuts on his feet. He didn’t have the right to cry, not with the mess he’d made. It was all his fault. Why hadn’t he just kept crawling up the steps? Sure, the pain had been sudden and blinding and he’d been too stunned to breathe, but those were _details_ and now Hero was sick because Keith couldn’t take care of himself.

 

Pidge was right: he was such an idiot.

 

But no! It _wasn’t_ his fault, because how was he supposed to know human bodies were so fragile?! Apparently, humans needed to eat and drink _every_ day and if they spent all day naked, their skin was _burned by the sun_. How pathetic was that! Why didn’t they just go out at night? When he asked Doctor, the man said that people don’t see very well at night, and when Keith suggested they practice seeing better, the shaman laughed (but it wasn’t _fun_ to make him laugh—not like with Shiro).

 

Well, there was nothing for it but to be on his best behavior from now on. Doctor had said he needed to stay in bed, so that was _precisely_ where he would stay. It was an easy order anyway. He was pretty sure if he sat up he’d vomit, and that was an absolutely unacceptable thing to do in Shiro’s home cave and ohhh that might be a problem, because what if he threw up anyway? He didn’t want to do it on the bed…

 

Luckily, the disgusting fluid the shaman had told him to drink was making him tired. He was quiet in moments, his quandary solved via sleep.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

“He’s a lively one, I’ll give him that,” Dr. Roberts chuckled. “I’m not sure how he managed until this morning, but I gave him something to help him sleep.”

 

“Alcohol,” Lance deadpanned. “Alcohol is how he managed.”

 

Dr. Roberts chuckled again. “That’s quite possible. With food, water, and rest he should just be fine. I’ve left an ointment to help with his sunburns and I’ll be by to check on his stitches tomorrow.” He paused. “Begging your Lordship’s pardon, but where did you find that boy?”

 

“He was wandering town last night, drunk. Why?” Shiro asked.

 

Dr. Roberts shook his head. “There’s more than too much drink and sun that’s wrong with him.”

 

Shiro’s heart tightened.

 

(Really? You met him yesterday.)

 

“What do you mean?” he asked.

 

“I asked when he last ate and he informed me he ate the day before yesterday. When I told him that meant he was overdue for food, he looked at me in shock and said ‘Does that mean I need to eat _every_ day?’,” Dr. Roberts said. “I don’t know where he’s been before now, but I’d wager it wasn’t a kind place.”

 

That was almost a relief—he’d been afraid that Keith’s fever was something more serious. He did worry about the food comment, but that was a less pressing matter. Keith needed to get well first. Shiro nodded and thanked the doctor for his time, promising to keep a close watch over Keith (which prompted Lance to give him a very knowing look, blast him).

 

“I just witnessed you adopt a human puppy, didn’t I?” Lance smirked the second the door closed.

 

“Lance, he needs help,” Shiro insisted.

 

Lance put up his hands. “Oh I’m not disagreeing with that, but _you_ , my good sir, have not stopped blushing once since you met this puppy,” Lance grinned.

 

Shiro put his hands to his cheeks as if to feel for the blush. “Fuck,” he muttered. “Is it that obvious?”

 

“It is _more_ than that obvious,” Lance said, heartily slapping the prince on the back, “and I thoroughly approve. Well, not the selection maybe, but the idea. You haven’t so much as peaked at anything since he-who-shall-not-be-named was a royal idiot—ha! pun—so I am loving this side of you. I’ve missed Disaster Shiro.”

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be a little more ‘bend the knee’ around royalty?” Shiro said, arching an eyebrow.

 

“Mine prince!” Lance cried dramatically, immediately dropping to one knee and bowing low. “Pray forgive me for my transgressions!”

 

“Not a chance,” Shiro said, shaking his head. “It would take all day.”

 

“Hurtful,” Lance said as he rose from the ground, dusting off his knee. “So, where are you sleeping? I assume I’m moving your stuff since Puppy is in your bed.”

 

“Puppy has a name,” Shiro said.

 

Lance nodded happily. “And now he has a nickname! See how good of friends we all are? Anyway, what room? Do you want your old one?”

 

“No,” Shiro said quickly. He took a steadying breath and tried again. “No, thank you. You can select what you think is best.”

 

“Sounds great. I’ll go fix something up. You can go see how Puppy is doing. I know that’ll cheer you up,” Lance winked. He trotted off whistling.

 

(Damn his observational prowess.)

 

Shiro was itching to check in on Keith, but he was also embarrassed—and not just because he was apparently very obvious with his attractions. The last time Keith had seen him, Shiro was bent on the ground, gasping for air like a god damn fish out of water. He _hated_ that he had these attacks (“slip back moments”, Lance called them) and he especially hated that he’d just had one in front of a very cute boy.

 

( _God_ that boy was cute.)

 

He tiptoed into his bedroom to check on Keith who was already asleep. He needed to stop thinking of him as a kid. When he was awake, he was so full of life and energy that it softened his edges, made him look younger. Now that he was asleep and wincing from pain, it was obvious that he was in his late teens or early twenties. Shiro would have put him at 16 or 17 before; now he would add three or four years to that figure. He felt slightly less guilty about the enormity of his attraction.

 

Slightly.

 

Okay, time to stop staring. It was one thing to check up on him, it was another to stand in the doorway, watching his chest rise and fall, admiring how the light fell across his face and the curve of his lips and Shiro you are such a creep.

 

He started to shut the door when Keith whimpered and tried to roll over. He was too close to the edge of the bed, however, and he started to fall. Shiro caught him in an instant.

 

“Hey, careful,” he said, clumsily cradling the boy.

 

Keith’s eyes fluttered open and he smiled sleepily. “Hi, Hero,” he whispered, and slid his arms around Shiro before burying his face in his neck.

 

This was 100% not fair and Shiro would like to have a word with whatever fate or deity had okayed this. _Fuck_ his heart was pounding.

 

“My name’s not ‘Hero’, you know,” Shiro said, rooted to the spot and blushing darker than Keith’s sunburns.

 

“It could be,” Keith mused happily. “I’d allow it.”

 

Wow.

 

“Let’s get you back in bed, okay?” Shiro said softly.

 

“Ohhh I messed up,” Keith said. “I wasn’t supposed to leave the bed.” He looked around at how he was half slumped onto Shiro and half still in bed and then stared at Shiro, mortified. “I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s fine, I know it was an accident,” Shiro smiled. Was he still drunk? It must be the fever.

 

“Nnh but I made you sick,” Keith said unhappily as Shiro helped him roll back onto the bed. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I promise.”

 

“No, no, it wasn’t that,” Shiro said hurriedly. “I know that’s what Lance told you but he was wrong, okay? I get sick sometimes. I…I was worried for you, but that wasn’t what it was.”

 

Keith winced as he rearranged himself.

 

“Do you need more pillows?” Shiro asked.

 

“Those go under my head,” Keith smiled.

 

Shiro couldn’t help grinning back. “Yes they do. I’ll make sure you get some more.”

 

“You’re nice,” Keith informed him. “And I’m going to make you happy. But you’ll have to tell me how,” he reflected, chewing his lip thoughtfully. “I don’t know how to do that.”

 

“Just get better. That will make me happy,” Shiro smiled. _Fuck_ this kid was going to kill him.

 

“Okay,” Keith agreed. He settled down and closed his eyes. “I’m going to sleep now. That’s next.”

 

“Yes it is,” Shiro agreed. “Sleep well.”

 

“I am the _best_ at sleeping,” Keith promised.

 

“That’s wonderful,” Shiro said. “I’ll check in on you later, okay?”

 

“I’ll be better,” Keith said with determination.

 

“Okay,” Shiro said, barely keeping in a laugh as he quietly backed out of the room. He leaned his head against the door as it clicked shut.

 

“Wow you’re whipped,” Lance said, unimpressed.

 

“Shit you scared me!” Shiro gasped.

 

“Yup,” Lance agreed. “Anyway, I’m getting your old room ready.”

 

Shiro paled. “Lance, I thought you were going to—”

 

“Relax, it’s fine. I got your room ready for Puppy. I figured that would be easier than moving all your stuff somewhere, and I assume you want Puppy to get the royal treatment, eh?” He jabbed at Shiro with his elbow. “Get it?”

 

Shiro rolled his eyes. “Yes Lance, I get it.” He breathed in slowly and let it out. “Wow. I am not doing well today.”

 

“Doesn’t help that you didn’t sleep last night,” Lance pointed out gently. “At least Puppy will keep you distracted, yeah? And I haven’t been careful. Sorry.”

 

“You shouldn’t have to be,” Shiro said through gritted teeth. “No, it’s fine. I don’t want to talk about it. I’ll go answer some letters.”

 

“ _Now_ you’re starting to scare me,” Lance said, his eyes wide.

 

“Shut up and make sure Keith has plenty of pillows when you move him,” Shiro said, lightly punching Lance in the arm.

 

“Will do, m’Lord,” Lance said with a bow. “Will you be requiring my services for the Great Letter Writing?”

 

“Hell no. Now get out of here,” Shiro said, amused but exasperated.

 

“Your wish is my command,” Lance said, bowing again as he backed away.

 

“That was a command, not a wish,” Shiro called after him. He shook his head. Well, this had certainly been an interesting morning. Perhaps the afternoon would be a little calmer and with any luck, he could scribble out an answer or two. Somehow he suspected that things would liven up again the minute Keith was awake. He was looking forward to it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot to mention last time! Part of the idea behind Keith’s feet bleeding is that in the original fairytale, the little mermaid’s feet constantly hurt. It’s part of the spell—she always feels like she’s walking on knives. Very dark story. >_< But I like that witch isn’t evil in it! She just exists and sells potions and things. If I remember correctly, the mermaid’s tongue wasn’t even payment but an ingredient. 
> 
> I’m caving. There will be smut next chapter. XD Sorta. There won't be *real* smut won’t be for…well, a while. I dunno. I never know how long my stories will be. 
> 
> As for Shiro's PTSD in this story... I don't have PTSD, but I do have cyclothymia which is a type of bipolar disorder, so I am well acquainted with anxiety. I'm writing his attacks somewhat along those lines...? If anyone reading this has PTSD and wants offer suggestions/corrections, feel free to contact me!
> 
> I can't believe how fast I'm writing this. I am legit concerned that content is suffering, but uh.... so long as the readers are happy, I guess???? Note to self: when in doubt, add more cock. 
> 
> Fuck I'm tired. 
> 
> LOVE YOU GUYSSSS.


	3. If wishes were fishes then I'd be a school

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lance realizes the potency of his new weapon, Keith makes an important discovery, and Shiro continues to be a Disaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “All men are equal before fish.”  
> ― Herbert Hoover

Lance could not deny that Puppy was a lot of fun. He didn’t know if he was going to be friends with the guy (who he was fairly certainly was not drunk, just stupid), but Puppy was most definitely going to be a lot of fun.

 

For instance: once Shiro’s old room was ready, Lance had taken it upon himself to move Puppy there immediately. Sure, Shiro would've waited until the kid woke up, but fuck it—Lance wanted the room available for the prince the second he might desire it. Shiro had not been doing well, after all, so drunky could handle waking up for two minutes. So, off he went to wake up Drunk Puppy.

 

Puppy did not want to be moved.

 

Dr. Roberts, it seemed, had informed Puppy he was not to leave the bed, and Shiro was allegedly going to check in later to make sure Puppy had stayed there, and so Puppy _was not going to move_.

 

It was Shiro’s bed, Lance had explained, and the prince might need it.

 

“I’ll make room. Look,” Keith had said desperately, scooting to the very edge of the bed and taking up the smallest amount of space possible.

 

(Never mind that the bed was already _huge_.)

 

“Please,” Keith had pleaded, his eyes doing the big-cute-puppy routine (very fitting). “He told me to stay here. Hero won’t mind if I sleep with him, will he?”

 

Lance would forever look back at this moment as the pinnacle of his willpower, because he did not laugh at that comment.

 

“Listen. The doctor said you had to stay in bed, right?”

 

Nodding.

 

“But did he say you had to stay in _this_ bed?”

 

A pause, and then shaking.

 

“There ya go,” Lance had said, smiling. “All better now?”

 

And Puppy had finally submitted to being carried away.

 

Yup. No doubt about it. Puppy was going to be a _lot_ of fun.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

Keith slept in his new room until almost sunset and woke up to a growling stomach and aching feet. Being human was not quite as fun as anticipated, he reflected, examining his red and itching skin. Oh well. So there was more of a learning curve to human bodies than he expected—so what? Shiro was _alive_. Shiro was alive and had brought him to his home cave! Keith couldn’t help wriggling with excited energy. He’d always _known_ that Hero was an amazing person. You can’t look at someone for that long without _knowing_ things.

 

Never one to sit still for long, Keith was bored within two minutes of waking up, but he’d promised to stay in bed, so he squirmed his way through the myriad of blankets and pillows that barred his path to the nearest window. It had glass in it. Pidge loved glass. It was more magical than any witch’s brew or shaman’s spell. Where did it come from? How was it made? Perhaps it was the shell of a mighty land beast. The first time Keith had suggested the explanation, Pidge had laughed so hard she’d gotten a nosebleed (which made no anatomical sense, and was somehow all the more insulting).

 

“Bottles,” she’d gasped at last. “You’ve seen the _bottles_. What kind of beast grows that?”

 

“Maybe humans carve the bottles out of the shell,” Keith had scowled, which was frankly a fair theory and absolutely not one he had invented on the spot.

 

“Maybe,” Pidge had agreed, gills wheezing with laughter.

 

Keith tapped on the window, barely able to reach it while still on the bed. The memory made him smile. Damn. He missed Pidge.

 

“Did you want the window open?” Shiro asked, poking his head in the room just in time to see Keith settling back in the bed.

 

(Thank Neptune he hadn’t actually left it!)

 

“Just admiring the glass,” Keith explained hurriedly.

 

“Only the glass?” Shiro smiled. “It’s a very pretty view.”

 

“The view is much better in here,” Keith said, turning to look at Shiro, a move which inexplicably caused the human to turn bright red. Perhaps he felt embarrassed to have his possessions complimented so openly?

 

“Ah, yes, ahem,” Shiro stammered, clearing his throat and nodding for some reason. If this was a human greeting, Keith had never encountered it before. He tried to formulate a response, wondering if he should simply repeat it, when something behind Shiro caught his eye.

 

“AHH!” he cried in shocked delight, making Shiro jump.

 

“W-what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Shiro asked, rushing to the bed.

 

Keith pointed excitedly to a nearby shelf.

 

“You have _that_!” he cried.

 

Shiro looked between Keith and the shelf and back again, lost. “I have…?”

 

In his excitement, Keith forgot his promise to stay in bed and scrambled to the edge of the mattress, swinging his feet to the floor and then instantly retracting them. “I’m sorry,” he said in horror, staring at Shiro.

 

“It’s okay if you need to get out of bed. Don’t worry—I won’t tell anyone,” Shiro winked.

 

Shiro was not human. He was an angel. Keith grinned his gratitude. “Can you help me get there?” he asked. “I forgot it hurts.”

 

“Why don’t you tell me what you want and I’ll bring it to you?” Shiro smiled.

 

Keith’s smile faltered. He didn’t know the human name of the object.

 

Fuck.

 

Sorting through his options, Keith decided on simply being vague. “The red one,” he said with the surety of a man who knew the names of all things and simply chose to not use them. There was only one red thing on the shelf anyway.

 

“Oh, the flute?” Shiro smiled again. He walked to the shelf and returned with the item. He offered it to Keith who took it eagerly.

 

It had been properly cleaned and polished since the last time he’d seen it, and it gleamed in the soft evening light. It was a metal, hollow tube, inlaid with red coral and black pearl and it was punctured with holes in a straight line. It was beautiful and it made no sense and Keith was now very glad he had not called it a song reed (his previous name for the item).

 

“How does it work?” Keith asked, more to himself than Shiro as he turned it over in his hands. He’d tried to use one before. The noise he’d made offended every seagull in a 12 mile radius and he’d been too embarrassed to return to the surface for five days.

 

“You blow through here,” Shiro explained, pointing to the largest hole, “and then press your fingers over these to change the sound.”

 

That was exactly what Keith had done.

 

(Further confirmation that Hero was an ethereal being.)

 

“I’d show you myself, but, well…,” Shiro made an aborted snort and gestured to his missing arm.

 

Something broke in Keith at that exact moment. He knew. He knew why Shiro was sad and it was more than just the arm. A single, fat tear dropped from his face to the instrument clutched in his hands.

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

 

Shiro glanced up, startled. “Hey, wow, no no it’s fine, um, shit, where’s my handkerchief?” He patted down his body in alarm (a confusing gesture). “Shit, right, I hit Lance earlier.”

 

“Why?” Keith asked, eyes wide. It was hard to imagine Shiro hitting someone.

 

“He walked into the door,” Shiro said, still patting himself distractedly.

 

(Had the appearance of tears broken the human?)

 

“Is that usually a punching offense?” he asked with worry. Chances were high that Keith would walk into a door at some point.

 

“What? No, it was an accident.”

 

SHIT the chances of Keith walking into a door on _accident_ were VERY high.

 

Shiro leapt from the bed and yanked open a drawer from a nearby dresser and rummaged through it until, with a victorious cry, he pulled out a square of cloth and returned to Keith, offering it triumphantly.

 

Keith had no idea what to do with it, but he took it and thanked Shiro, who grinned.

 

“You don’t need to feel bad about it. I’m used to it,” Shiro said, a fond but sad look on his face.

 

Keith did not feel bad about the cloth. Or the ~~song reed~~ flute. OH. His arm! Yes, Keith did feel bad about the arm. But that made no sense, because how could someone get used to missing an ar—ohhhh he’d been lying to make Keith stop crying. Fuck. Okay. Not crying anymore.

 

Keith valiantly smeared the square of cloth over his face, recalling that humans liked to keep their faces dry, and that appeared to be the correct use of the cloth because Shiro looked a little more relaxed, which was a start. He smiled when he met Keith’s eye, and Keith smiled back. They sat for moment.

 

“Thank you for letting me look at this,” Keith said finally, handing back the ~~song reed~~ flute and then, inexplicably, found himself reluctant to let it go. “Why do you…why do you still have this?” he asked. There was no way Shiro would know what he meant, but he wanted an answer anyway.

 

Shiro hesitated and Keith released his hold on the instrument. “A friend gave it to me,” he said.

 

And wasn’t that just wonderful?

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

Shiro had no idea what he’d done to cause the smile that was currently blooming over Keith’s face, but he vowed to replicate everything he’d done in the past ten minutes until he learned how to trigger it again—even though the last ten minutes had been _terrible_. Here he’d been avoiding his old room because he hated that it looked out over the sea, but then the biggest trap was the damn flute. Even holding it had been a mistake and he’d honestly been pretty close to nosediving into self-pity until Keith’s tear splashed down with dozens more threatening to fall. Usually, he loathed it when people felt sorry for him, but there was nothing patronizing about Keith. The kid wasn’t mourning the broken prince or telling him to be brave, and if anything, Shiro wanted his arm back to comfort _him_. All over a damn flute.

 

That he couldn’t have played, even if he wanted to.

 

(Maybe he should chuck that one into the sea, too. Not that dramatic gestures had ever done him any good.)

 

But now Keith was smiling at him, warmer and more beautiful than the setting sun, and it was a little bit hard to think about flutes, or oceans, or breathing.

 

“So, um,” Shiro cleared his throat. “I actually came in here to check if you were hungry. Do you feel up to eating in the dining hall? I could just have a meal brought here if you like.”

 

“You took too long—food’s here,” Lance announced from the doorway. He was balancing a tray with two bowls of soup and several bread rolls and he paid very little attention to his lord and liege as he set the food down on a side table.

 

“Two bowls won’t be necessary, thank you,” Shiro said, causing the valet to looking at him skeptically.

 

“Why? Because you’ve eaten _so much_ today that you _couldn’t possibly_ eat a bite more? Are you trying to break Hunk’s heart? You’ve got to eat eventually,” Lance said, crossing his arms firmly.

 

Shiro would have protested, but Keith interrupted.

 

“ _Shiro_ ,” he said with dramatic but unfeigned horror, “humans have to eat _every_ _day_.”

 

The shit-eating smirk Lance failed to hide told Shiro that his friend had counted on that exact reaction and that not only had he just lost this fight, but Lance was planning to employ this new and powerful weapon liberally in the days to come.

 

The prince’s ears were a healthy red and his glare was murderous as he hissed under his breath “Are you fucking serious?” and the valet’s answering smile was serene and demure as he said “Enjoy your meal, gentlemen” and bowed himself out of the room.

 

Keith was apparently extremely worried that Shiro wasn’t going to eat, because the boy watched with rapt attention as Shiro politely spooned up several mouthfuls of soup.

 

“This is soup,” Keith announced suddenly. “And I have had it before.” He wrapped his hand around a spoon and thrust it deep into the bowl before shoving it into his mouth.

 

“Oh yeah?” Shiro smiled. “I bet you haven’t had Hunk’s soup before. It’s really good, isn’t it?”

 

Keith was staring into the bowl now. He looked back and forth between the bowl and the spoon before declaring, “Yes, it is good.”

 

Shiro chuckled. “I’m glad you agree.”

 

Keith smiled at him, warm and devastating. Shiro would be eating every meal from now on.

 

(Damn Lance to hell.)

 

“Why weren’t you eating before?” Keith asked.

 

(Damn Lance to hell.)

 

“I haven’t been very hungry,” Shiro said carefully. Cute boy or not, he did not want to talk about it. Maybe especially not.

 

Keith looked him over with a critical, considering eye. “Maybe…,” he hesitated. “Maybe you should eat anyway…?”

 

He was so damn cute.

 

And yes, Shiro should be eating anyway. Shiro should be doing a lot of things he didn’t feel like doing. A small swell of resentment rose in him. He really didn’t need to hear this again. From anyone.

 

Keith looked down at his soup again, stirring it slowly with his spoon. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I don’t want to eat sometimes, either. And you’re big enough to not eat for a while. Your muscles will shrink but you have a lot of them, so it’s okay. If-if you need to use them that way, I mean. Your body can handle it. B-but you know that,” he ended in a mutter.

 

Wow. Keith had actually calculated out his muscle mass and his relative survivability in case of starvation. That was embarrassing. Still, he was very flattered that Keith thought he had “a lot of them”. It had a been a few months since Shiro would have agreed.

 

“It’s okay,” Shiro sighed. “I know I need to eat more.” He laughed ruefully. “And I know I look like shit.”

 

Keith looked up in alarm. “You look _wonderful_ ,” he said seriously. “You are very beautiful. You’re like a storm or a sunset or a, a, a seal.”

 

Shiro burst out laughing. He was blushing to his core from the compliments, but he wasn’t sure about the last one. “I don’t know if seals are beautiful.”

 

“They are,” Keith insisted, affronted by Shiro’s laughter. “They glide like miracles and they swim like the water belongs to them and they bark and it’s perfect,” he concluded.

 

“Do I bark?” Shiro said, laughing harder. “I’m sorry, they might swim well but that doesn’t make them beautiful. They’re slugs on the beach.”

 

“Slugs are beautiful,” Keith said, baffled. “They’re blue and yellow.”

 

“Maybe sea slugs are,” Shiro said, wiping tears from his eyes. “Land slugs are very ugly. Wow, I haven’t laughed like that in ages. Thank you.”

 

Keith was mollified by that and he went back to his soup, slurping happily.

 

“Soup is good,” he concluded.

 

“I think so, too,” Shiro said. How the hell was this kid so adorable? Shiro had to wonder if he would still be this adorable once he was healthy again. How much of his ridiculous, honest behavior was actually _his_ , and how much was alcohol and fever? Shiro had a feeling that it was mostly Keith, and he was 100% weak to it.

 

“How are you feeling? Is your fever gone? You look like you’re doing better,” Shiro commented.

 

“I am doing perfectly,” Keith informed him solemnly. “Only my skin and my feet are bad.”

 

“That doesn’t sound quite like perfect, then, but I’m glad to hear it,” Shiro said, swallowing a smile. “So, Keith from the ocean, I suppose that means it’s time for you tell me who you are and where you’re from.”

 

Once again, Keith was baffled. “I’m Keith, and I’m from the ocean,” he said.

 

“Yes, but you’re a sailor, aren’t you? What vessel did you come in on? I’ll be happy to tell them that you’re safe and that you didn’t jump ship,” Shiro told him. He didn’t want Keith to worry about getting in trouble for breaking his conscript.

 

Keith just looked more confused. “I don’t…have those things. But I can jump,” he added quickly.

 

“So, you’re not a sailor? Then what were you doing in town?”

 

“Looking for clothes and dancing,” Keith said, repeating himself from earlier. He said it slowly and patiently, like those two activities were sufficient explanations for everything about himself.

 

“But there’s more to you than that,” Shiro said gently. “I want to help you. Where is your home, your family? What is your occupation? Knowing that will go a long way.”

 

“I…,” Keith said, sounding lost. “I’m from the ocean.” He looked worried. “You don’t need to help me. I’m doing fine. It’s just my skin and my feet but I’m fine.”

 

“Okay,” Shiro said softly. There was no point in pressing for more—especially since Keith didn’t seem to know, either. Perhaps in a few days. “When you remember things, let me know, alright?”

 

Keith nodded, but he seemed troubled.

 

Shiro reached out and touched his arm before he could stop himself. “Don’t worry about it too much,” he said. “You can stay here as long as you like.” And boy did he ever mean it, especially when Keith’s shy and grateful smile spread to his eyes like that.

 

The rest of the meal was less eventful. Keith was fascinated when Shiro dunked a bread roll into the soup and informed Shiro that he “had eaten _lots_ of bread before” and then confided that he “usually ate fish”.

 

Lance came by shortly there after with candles. Shiro opted to excuse him and let Keith rest (and perhaps avoid giving Lance extra fuel).

 

And sure enough, the moment they were in the hall together, Lance turned on him with an almost predatory grin.

 

“How was your date with Puppy?”

 

“We ate soup,” Shiro shrugged, not intending to indulge Lance further (while knowing it was a futile effort).

 

“Pure romance!” Lance grinned.

 

Shiro rolled his eyes and changed the subject. “I tried to ask him some questions, but it’s like he doesn’t know anything about himself. I think…I think he might be a shipwreck survivor. I’d say he escaped from an abusive home, what with him not understanding eating, but it’s more like… Well, he’s not afraid. If he’d been held captive somewhere, he wouldn’t be so trusting.”

 

“He’s trusting of _you_ ,” Lance corrected, “but I see your point. The only flaw is that there haven’t been any storms, and if he only just now washed up, how has he been surviving? And _where_ has he been surviving? It’s a small island and no one has seen him, so he would need to have been at sea for a long time.”

 

“Maybe he’s been on a raft,” Shiro suggested. “He talked about eating a lot of fish.”

 

Lance shrugged. “It would explain why his hair is so long. Whatever the case, I think he might be good for you. So, well, I approve. Of you adopting him, I mean.”

 

Shiro sighed and rubbed his temples. He knew what Lance was getting at and it was annoying. “He’s not a child, Lance.” There was enough irritation in his voice that Lance took the hint.

 

Lance paused, blinking in realization. “Yeah, sorry,” he said after a moment, looking embarrassed. “Go get some rest if you can. We can sort it out some more in the morning.”

 

Shiro wished him good night and headed to his room, berating himself. Lance meant well, and if he was a little tactless with his phrasing it was nothing new. Shiro really should have kept his mouth shut. He was just tired.

 

He was always tired.

 

He opened the door to his room and closed it, sighing again. He hated being tired. He also hated trying to undress with only one arm, but he’d refused help from day one and it was getting easier. A lot of things were getting easier. He’d even held the damn flute.

 

_You’re beautiful like a storm. I’m going to make you happy. I would never leave you._

 

The phrases floated to his mind, unbidden. How was it he had known Keith for all of one day and yet was utterly caught by him? Yes, he was cute—beautiful, really, with his black hair and luminous eyes and firm lines—but was Shiro really that weak to a pretty face? Maybe he was just that lonely.

 

He was always lonely.

 

He was tired and lonely and he wanted to latch onto Keith like he was a life raft in the ocean of Shiro’s isolation and that wasn’t fair. Keith wasn’t a drifting, helpless person.

 

Keith wasn’t Shiro.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

Shiro fell asleep easily, the result of pure fatigue if nothing else. He sank deep into rest and it was only with some difficulty that he became aware someone was on his bed. Keith.

 

“Hey,” he said sleepily, “did you forget you changed rooms?”

 

“You haven’t told me yet,” Keith said seriously, speaking low in the darkness.

 

“Told you what?” Shiro asked. He sat up on his elbow, eyes blinking the sleep away. Shit. Keith was sitting so close.

 

“How I can make you happy,” the boy explained patiently. He leaned in closer, now mere inches away.

 

Shiro swallowed hard and his gaze flickered between Keith’s eyes and his lips. “Y-you already do,” he stammered. “Just meeting you has made me happy. I l-like you.” Shiro licked his lips nervously and this time it was Keith whose eyes were on _his_ lips.

 

“You probably shouldn’t like me, if you just met me,” the boy reasoned, “but I guess it’s alright, since I like you, too. Can I stay in your bed?”

 

Shiro’s heart hammered frantically in his chest. “S-sure just let me m-make room.” He scooted over and Keith clambered in happily, immediately snuggling close. Warm breath ghosted over Shiro’s neck and he felt a phantom press of lips as the boy sighed, his head resting on Shiro’s chest.

 

“Will this make you happy?” Keith whispered.

 

Shiro was pretty sure he was sweating far more than was attractive, and his mind and mouth were _definitely_ not communicating.

 

“Ah, er, heh,” was the series of intelligent noises he managed.

 

Chaste lips snuck little kisses along his neck. Shiro shuddered.

 

“Are you still sick?” he gasped as teeth captured his earlobe and tugged gently.

 

“Are you still sad?” Keith countered, a teasing smile in his voice.

 

“God, no,” Shiro said, surging up and taking Keith’s lips in an eager kiss. He swallowed Keith’s little cry of delight and coaxed out more, rolling over to be above him, caging him with his arms and pressing him into the mattress with his body. Keith rolled his hips up to meet him, already hard.

 

“You walked here naked?” Shiro gasped in surprised.

 

“I walked here _ready_ ,” Keith smiled, directing Shiro’s hand down over the smooth expanse of his body, down past his hard cock, down to his entrance—wet and welcoming.

 

“Fuck,” Shiro groaned. “You sure, baby?”

 

Keith answered by sneaking his hand to Shiro’s length, pumping it slowly even as he guided him down.

 

“You need to be in someone who wants you. That will make you happy, won’t it?” Keith whispered.

 

“It’s a damn good start,” Shiro replied in a low growl. “Hold onto me—I’m taking you hard.”

 

Keith moaned as Shiro slid in, arching his neck and exposing his white skin, just waiting to be marked.

 

“Fuck you’re perfect,” Shiro panted, thrusting deep. “You like it like this, don’t you? I know you’re strong. I saw your body. I know what it wants.”

 

Keith whimpered beautifully. “Shiro it’s so good this is so good.” He clung to Shiro’s back and dug his heels in, urging the prince on. “R-ride me oh god yes it’s so good.” He was thrusting himself back on Shiro’s cock, nails biting into his skin.

 

He was perfect and beautiful and begging for more and no one wanted Shiro’s wrecked body, no one _should_ want this body, but Keith was here and moaning and trembling and—

 

And that was how Shiro woke up to dirty sheets and a dirtier conscience. Because really? He wanted to fuck that adorable, innocent kid hard? Tenderly, he could have forgiven, but _hard_? Clearly, it had been too long since he’d last “taken himself in hand”, though in his defense he hadn’t felt the desire until roughly 24 hours ago. And now? Well, now he was apparently a teenager again and was going to be even more awkward around Keith.

 

Just wonderful.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHUT UP SHIRO SEALS ARE BEAUTIFUL *cries into flippers* But uh….the barking is not dignified. Sorry Keith. I figure, if hippos are Keith’s favorite animal, he’s got some weird taste? I dunno. XD
> 
> Are y'all curious yet about that sweet, sweet backstory? :3 I hope so! Annnd we won't see it for a little while. >_< Sorry. 
> 
> Quick note on Shiro's memory loss: it is not significant. And it's kind of selective? He doesn't remember much about when he lost his arm, but there's not too much other than that he's forgotten. The other stuff is more like...he won't let himself remember, I guess. 
> 
> And about the flute stuff! That's very important later. XD But I wanted to let y'all know that it's a homage to the Disney version where Prince Eric has a flute. It's also my way of incorporating the whole "lost voice" bit, but in this case the prince is one who loses their voice. Poor Shiro. 
> 
> Small note on fashion/style: everyone is wearing clothes from the late 1700s/early 1800s. People talk about Keith's hair being long and that's because it's down to his waist. Shiro and Lance both have "long" hair, too, in that Master and Commander type of way. Think Will from Pirates of the Caribbean. Mmmmm or think of Jack Sparrow. Damn he's a hot character. Approval. 
> 
> Love you, pretty children~


	4. Water you mean I'm not sneaky?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Keith enacts his well-crafted and carefully thought-out Plan, Lance can't believe this shit, and Shiro blushes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Fish would probably be the last of all creatures to discover water.”  
> ― Flavil R. Yeakley Jr.

Of all the mer characteristics he could have retained, the most useful was the ability to hear and produce long-range calls, and so it was with gratitude that Keith woke up the next morning to a friendly, screeching whistle, indicating that Pidge was nearby. It was a sound that humans couldn’t hear, but one the dogs of the home cave most definitely could. The humans were immediately up and yelling at the dogs, which was confusing to Keith (who was quite ignorant of his role in the matter) and so it was a little difficult to communicate over the sudden voracious chorus. Blessedly for the peace of the cave’s residents, the high-pitched cries of merfolk were only used over great distances and so were for brief, simple messages, and therefore his conversation with Pidge was short.

 

 _Hello, hello, hello_ , Pidge greeted.

 

Keith echoed the cry. _Hello, hello, hello_.

 

 _Come to my location_ , Pidge suggested.

 

 _No_ , Keith responded sadly. _I am injured_.

 

 _YES_ , Pidge called back, somehow making the reply mean “No shit”. _Be wary. There is danger_.

 

 _YES_ , Keith told her, returning the sentiment.

 

 _I will return_ , Pidge called out. _Goodbye_.

 

 _Goodbye_ , Keith cried.

 

The dogs started to quiet down, and Keith settled back in his bed, plotting the best course of action for his daily submerging. Pidge was being ridiculous, reminding him to be careful like he was an idiot. He was NOT an idiot. He had a Plan. A well-crafted and carefully thought-out Plan. When he had arrived at the home cave the night before, the place where he had dismounted the horse had a long, low, half-barrel full of water. He’d just dunk himself in there. No biggie.

 

Okay, so getting _to_ the half-barrel might be a little tricky. He’d promised to stay in bed, after all. But, well, humans had to eat _every_ day, so someone would come along to feed him eventually. He’d make his case for leaving the bed then and from there it was a simple matter of falling down. He was _great_ at falling down.

 

Luck continued to be on his side as it was only a few minutes before the tan boy with blue eyes—Dance? Ants?—appeared and asked him if he wanted breakfast now or to wait until after Shiro woke up.

 

“I just checked on him and he slept through the dog racket, so I figured I’d let him sleep in,” the boy shrugged. “Do you need anything?”

 

Keith shook his head. He was content to wait until Shiro woke up. He did have one question, though. “Who are you?”

 

The tan boy stared for a moment and then laughed. “I guess I never introduced myself. I’m Lance McClain, nice to meet you,” he said, sticking out his hand.

 

Keith did not know what to do with this gesture. Perhaps the human was offering to help him out of bed? He cautiously mimicked Lance McClain’s motion and was surprised when he gripped his hand, moved it up and down, and then let it go. Bizarre.

 

“Anyway, I’m Shiro’s valet and I guess his butler these days, too, and his friend and all-around savior. Basically, anything he needs, I do, and right now he wants you to get better, so I’m your valet for the moment as well.”

 

“And my friend?” Keith asked, latching on to the only word he recognized.

 

“Sure, kid, I’m that too,” Lance McClain grinned. “Now, did you need anything?”

 

Keith did actually have something he needed pretty badly, having taken care of it last directly after his swim with Pidge.

 

“Is there a place I can…shit?”

 

Lance McClain laughed hard. “Oh my god, you’ve been waiting all night because you were told to stay in bed, haven’t you? _God_ , you’re hilarious! I kinda get why Shiro likes you. Yeah, there’s definitely a place you can shit and piss and whatever the hell you need to do. Think you can hobble or do you need some help?”

 

Keith definitely didn’t know how he was hilarious, but he was pleased to hear that Shiro liked him, and he was not overflowing with human friends, so he chose not to be offended. Besides, Lance McClain was important to Shiro. That was reason enough to ignore any potential insults.

 

Lance McClain escorted him down the hall to a place he referred to as “the dumper” and Keith was finally able to relieve himself. The valet left him to his own devices (“You won’t get lost on the way back, yeah?”) which meant Luck was well and truly on his side: he had left the bed with permission, and now he could go get wet.

 

Keith shuffled his way down the halls, down the stairs, and down more halls before emerging into the sunlight, his prize shimmering before him: water. A quick glance revealed no one was nearby, so he scurried forward, “tripped”, and fell happily into the half-barrel. Sweet baby barnacles, he loved being in water. Less than two days on land and damned if he didn’t miss swimming.

 

He wriggled, enjoying the feeling of liquid surrounding him (even if the barrel was too small for him to do more than roll over), and then broke the surface, staring straight into the eyes of Shiro.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

Lance had seen the whole damn thing. The careful glance around the courtyard, the exaggerated “Oops!”, the self-satisfied smile as Puppy flopped about in the water.

 

God help him.

 

Lance had barely left the boy when who should appear but Shiro, anxiously asking after Puppy since he’d just checked the room and Keith was missing. Even mysterious sea people have to crap sometimes, Lance had reassured the distraught prince, who had blushed and laughed awkwardly (God help him). And then they had seen Puppy sneak around a corner and, before Shiro could call out, Lance had put a hand on his arm and suggested they follow him.

 

“It must be important if he’s left the bed,” Lance pointed out, nearly choking himself by holding back laughter at the serious nod Shiro gave him in return.

 

Puppy hobbled and shuffled down the halls, making significantly more noise than if he’d just been walking. Shiro followed behind, plastered to the wall and peering out carefully around every corner. Lance came last, sauntering casually, immensely proud of himself for not laughing outright at the two idiots and frankly having a fantastic time.

 

Keith’s important business, it turned out, was flailing about in the horses’ water trough and, despite the fact Keith had _obviously fallen in on purpose_ , Shiro leapt forward with a terrified war cry, surging into battle to save Keith from his watery fate.

 

Which was how they ended up in the current situation—Puppy climbing out of the trough, wet nightshirt completely transparent and clinging to all the interesting places, and Shiro quite possibly about to die from flustered concern and embarrassment.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

“I’m dirty,” Keith explained casually to Shiro’s nearly shouted question of What Was He Doing. It was such a perfect excuse. Keith could barely contain his pride for having thought of it on the spot.

 

“If you want a bath, you can have one,” Shiro told him, for some reason looking at the ground with determined interest. “The room you’re staying in connects to a room with a bathtub. You can have soap and towels, too.”

 

Keith brightened up considerably. “How big?”

 

“Bigger than this,” Shiro said, gesturing to the half-barrel (still looking at the ground, which Keith failed to find fascinating).

 

“Can I use it every day?” Keith asked excitedly, because this was sounding absolutely perfect.

 

“Twice a day, if it keeps you out of the horse trough,” Shiro said sincerely, now staring at the horses.

 

(Those were admittedly more interesting than the ground, but it was still weird.)

 

Keith couldn’t help clapping excitedly. It was utterly perfect and bathing was a _human_ thing!

 

“Okay, well I’m glad that’s settled. Let’s get you back upstairs,” Shiro said, gently taking Keith’s arm and guiding him back into the home cave.

 

Keith beamed at him. Shiro glanced at him for only a second before turning away, his face bright red. Perhaps he was sunburned, too?

 

Shiro cleared his throat and laughed a little. “I thought you said you weren’t leaving the bed,” he half-teased.

 

“There wasn’t water in the bed,” Keith explained.

 

“Very true.”

 

Keith couldn’t help feeling a little smug. See, Pidge? Perfect plan.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

“Why does he have to be so cute?” Shiro moaned to Lance later. They had successfully gotten Keith into the bathroom and now were in Shiro’s study, a mound of documents on his desk being pointedly ignored.

 

“Shiro,” Lance said seriously, “you’re insane. He’s sunburnt to hell and his hair looks like, like, okay I can’t even _think_ of a good enough insult. It’s awful. He looks terrible. My god, what love will do to a person.”

 

“I’m not in love with him,” Shiro scoffed. “It’s been two days.”

 

Lance gave him a look of immense pity.

 

“Shut up,” Shiro muttered.

 

“I give it one more day before even _you_ have to admit it,” Lance said.

 

“Lance, I _like_ him, alright? And I think he’s very attractive, fun to talk to, and weirdly fascinating, but that does not equal love—not after _two days_ ,” Shiro said in exasperation.

 

Lance shrugged and nudged the stack of papers a bit closer.

 

He caved and plucked up the top page. “Out of all the things I had to remember, why did it have to be this?” Shiro asked with a deep sigh as he reviewed the accounting figures.

 

“Basic math?” Lance asked, quirking an eyebrow.

 

“Reading in general. No one would write me letters,” Shiro grinned.

 

“No, what they’d do is write letters to _me_ to read to you, and then you’d dictate responses, and actually that sounds a lot faster than our current system,” Lance said thoughtfully.

 

“Is it too late to pretend I can’t hear?” Shiro laughed.

 

“I’m pretty sure you already don’t listen to me,” Lance said with narrowed eyes.

 

Shiro would never admit to it, but the real reason he hated responding to letters, reviewing accounts, and overseeing the day-to-day governance of the island was because of how difficult it was for him to write with his left hand. His handwriting was improving slowly, but it was still nearly illegible. A prince should have perfect and handsome script, not this garbage. Sure, he could dictate his letters to Lance (who would happily write them in a heartbeat), but he utterly refused to allow anyone to do _anything_ for him unless it was absolutely impossible for someone to do with only one hand.

 

He sighed again as he scanned over the first page of figures. This was from almost a month ago. He really needed to stop putting things off. He might be stuck on the far reaches of the kingdom and he might be a useless failure of a prince, but he could still balance a sheet of figures, god damn it.

 

“Have I complained to you about my nose yet? You ruined my perfect face,” Lance said, breaking Shiro out of his gloom.

 

Shiro picked up a second page without looking up. “Was there anything there to ruin?”

  
“Hurtful.”

 

He couldn’t help smiling at that. He really was very lucky to have Lance as a friend, even if he did tease Shiro mercilessly every chance he got.

 

“Well, I’ll go see if Hunk has breakfast ready,” Lance said, rising up and heading to the door. “Oh, hi Pupp—uh, Keith.”

 

Shiro looked up to see Keith standing shyly in the doorway. For the first time since they’d met, Keith was fully clothed and he looked _amazing_. He was red from the sun, but he was still gorgeous, his now-clean hair falling in soft, fluffy curls that Shiro was just itching to play with. He was smiling timidly, fidgeting by the door and Shiro wanted to call him over, pull him to his lap, and nuzzle his neck before working his way up to his lips, leaving little kisses in his wake. Annnd now he was remembering his dream and the way Keith had looked rising from the water with his shirt slicked to his every line and _shit_ he needed to get himself under control.

 

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Lance said. Shiro jerked his eyes from Keith to see his friend smirking and silently mouthing “One day”.

 

If Keith hadn’t been there, Shiro definitely would have flipped him off.

 

“Goodbye, Lance McClain,” Keith called after him before turning back to Shiro. “I know I’m out of bed again, but it’s very boring there, and I missed you. I was hoping I could sit with you for a while, if that’s okay.”

 

Shiro’s heart made an entirely unnecessary flutter. “Y-yes, of course, come in,” he stammered, jumping up to help Keith into a chair.

 

Keith settled comfortably and smiled up at him, eyes glowing with warmth, like Shiro was everything he ever wanted to look at.

 

(Shiro understood the feeling.)

 

“You haven’t told me yet. How to make you happy,” Keith reminded him.

 

(JUST LIKE IN THE DAMN DREAM.)

 

“But that’s okay,” Keith continued. “I’m going to figure it out on my own.” He was still looking at him with an utterly contented smile.

 

Shit. It might not take a whole day before Shiro admitted that Lance was right. And no, it wasn’t love—but he fucking adored this boy and Keith really, _really_ didn’t need to worry about making Shiro happy.

 

Shiro was going to be the one to make _Keith_ happy, even if it was that last thing he ever did.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And no one ever did figure out why all the dogs in the castle started to howl at sunrise everyday. 
> 
> Mermaids aren’t seen very often because 1) they don’t come to the surface very often and 2) they almost NEVER come to the surface unless it’s night because while they have amazing low-light vision, the sun is pretty hard on their eyes. Stupid merfolk (like Keith) and curious ones (like Pidge) do what they like though, lol. 
> 
> Lance is probably going to get tired of This Shit at some point, but I think mostly he’ll just have fun. Shiro’s been deeply depressed for almost a year, so having him actually laugh and smile is encouraging (even if, dear god, the man can’t stop blushing). 
> 
> I’ve done a bit of calculating and this fic will be a minimum of 40k words, more likely in the 50k to 60k range. Dear gods above. =/ My stuff usually ends up waaay longer than I intended, too, so who knows. 
> 
> The mermaid whistle language!!! Sorta like the idea of sonar/whales…? Mermaids don’t exactly live in large communities, but they can call to each other when they need to. It’s really short—like Yes, No, Safe, Danger, Come to Me, I’ll Go to You, Hello, Goodbye, There is Food Here, Help, I am Hurt, etc etc etc. Basics. Probably also Fight Me Bitch and YOLO or something stupid. Idk. Have fun with it. SCIENCE IS NOT WELCOME HERE. 
> 
> Did I include the whistling entirely so Pidge wouldn’t have to freak out when Keith couldn’t come to the beach? It’s a possibility. But, it also seems like something sea people would have/use. 
> 
> So there.
> 
> I dunno. I'm tired. >_< Why do I stay up late? Why? Why??
> 
> Sorry the chapter was a bit shorter. I've been doing more outline-y things instead of writing, and well, I wanted to post *something*.
> 
> Love you~~


	5. A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Pidge agrees to something she maybe shouldn't, Keith falls in love, Shiro makes a purchase, and a letter arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “When you bait the hook with your heart, the fish always bite.”  
> ― John Burroughs

Keith had so much to tell Pidge that he was practically bursting when, over a week later, he plowed into the water and tackled her for a hug.

 

“Why are you _darker_?!” she yelped as she caught her over-eager friend.

 

It had been a shocking discovery: human skin changed colors. The shaman named Doctor had said he was healing well. His skin had peeled, which was initially terrifying, but apparently that was completely normal and happened after getting a sunburn. Keith had seen a variety of skin colors over the years and had previously assumed it was part of a natural variety, like the color of hair or tail fins. Now he wondered how badly burned some people must have gotten to reach certain levels of darkness. He asked Doctor and was informed it was a rude and insensitive question. Odd. People were sensitive about confusing things. Keith _liked_ the colors, but he decided to keep that to himself.

 

“Are you going to stay that color once you turn back?” Pidge asked curiously, examining Keith’s arm.

 

He shrugged. “No idea. Doesn’t bother me either way.” He hummed thoughtfully. “I wonder if my fin will stay the same.”

 

Pidge snorted. “You’ll have a hard time explaining that one to your mother.”

 

“Yikes,” Keith shivered. His mother, Krolia, was by no means controlling or overbearing, but even Keith had to admit his stay on land was pretty reckless. He could handle himself in water just fine—he’d killed more than one pesky shark in his time—but on land? He might be walking better, but it was fair to say he was no expert, and he had no idea how to defend himself. “Has anyone asked about me?”

 

“Nope, you’re in the clear,” Pidge assured him. That was not surprising. Merfolk didn’t congregate the way humans did. It would be a very long time before a missing merman would cause alarm. He’d been gone for weeks before without making even his mother worry. Humans, on the other hand, worried constantly. If he was missing for even a single morning it made Shiro practically frantic. His solution (staying as close to Shiro as possible) was perfectly acceptable, both to himself and to Shiro. “So, have you made any progress on why he’s sad?”

 

“Yes, I have,” Keith said, his face falling. “It’s his arm.”

 

“His arm? What about his arm?” Pidge said, puzzled.

 

“He can’t play the song reed anymore. The flute, they call it,” Keith explained.

 

“Why not? What’s wrong with his arm?”

 

“Did I not tell you?” Keith said in surprise. “It’s gone. He lost it.”

 

“What the HELL, you idiot! How is that not the first thing you told me?!?” Pidge yelled, punching Keith a little bit harder than necessary in the shoulder.

 

“Don’t yell—no one knows I’m talking to anyone,” he hissed, rubbing his assaulted shoulder. He’d gotten out of having an escort to the beach by explaining that he preferred to swim naked. Humans were particular about when and how to wear clothes, and apparently you were only supposed to be naked when no one else could see you. That made his first walk into town a little bit embarrassing (for everyone else. Keith sure as hell didn’t care).

 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. So, what are you going to do? It’s not like you can fix his arm,” Pidge pointed out.

 

“Actually,” Keith said, chewing his lip, “I was hoping maybe you would make him one?”

 

Pidge looked at him (not for the first time) like he was a priceless idiot. It would doubtless surprise most humans to learn that merfolk could and did forge metal using undersea vents. It was a difficult and dangerous process and, while Pidge was very good at it, was only done on rare occasions, metal being difficult to come by. Mers had little use for it anyway (or most items, for that matter—they held onto very few possessions).

 

“How the hell would you explain how you got it?” Pidge said at last, sighing.

 

“I don’t know,” Keith admitted, but he was feeling significantly more hopeful than he had a moment ago. Pidge hadn’t outright refused him! She probably had some conditions and he’d have to do whatever she told him to for the next decade or so, but that was fine by him. It was a huge favor, after all.

 

“It will take a while to make, and any metal you can give me will help a lot, but I’ll…well, I’ll try. You’ll need to get me some measurements, though,” she stressed. “I’m _not_ going to make an arm with guesswork.”

 

Keith agreed readily and, the matter mostly settled, the two mers set about discussing the oddities of humans and Keith’s time on the shore. He’d borrowed several items to show her—a spoon, a thimble, a pencil, and a bread roll. She eyed the bread skeptically before eating it and listened with interest as Keith explained the things he’d brought.

 

“And eating soup is so weird,” Keith said. “You scoop it with this thing and then it’s kinda like drinking? But soup is thicker than water and it has chunks of stuff in it. It was really tasty and it was _warm_ which was nice but also weird. They make a lot of their food warm. Pretty much all of it.”

 

“Humans and their obsession with fire,” Pidge said, rolling her eyes. “The bread is pretty good, though.”

 

“Oh! And you know what’s _really_ weird? Being ‘dirty’. You get really gross unless you wash yourself with water—like birds do sometimes—and yet humans always want to be dry.”

 

Pidge shook her head at the ridiculousness of human behavior.

 

“But it makes it really easy to dunk myself everyday,” Keith shrugged. “Oh! Oh!! And now that my feet are getting better, Shiro is going to take me horseback riding and show me the whole island!”

 

For perhaps the first time in their whole lives, Pidge actually looked jealous. “Lucky,” she muttered.

 

“I’ll call to you when we go, if we end up near a beach,” Keith promised. “I don’t know how close you’ll be able to get, but hopefully you can still see it.”

 

Pidge was (slightly) mollified by the suggestion and then pointed out that Keith had been “swimming” for a while now and if humans were really that worried about where he was all the time, he should start heading back. Keith agreed and started to stand up when he remembered one more detail.

 

“Pidge! I found out he’s a prince.”

 

“He’s a _prince_?!?! How is that the last thing you tell me?!”

 

“Sorry,” Keith teased. “I’ll tell you the story tomorrow!”

 

“You’re a jerk, Keith!” Pidge called after him. “You better keep your damn feet healthy so you can talk to me!”

 

Keith grinned, waved, and headed up the stone steps to the castle.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

“You’re a _prince_?!?!” Keith had practically shouted a few days prior.

 

Right. Everyone on the island already knew who he was (and pretty much everything he said or did), so it was easy to forget that Keith might not know it. Come to think of it, he’d never had someone _not_ know who he was. Still, he did live in a castle and was obviously the owner of it—that might have been a clue.

 

“Yes, of the Terran kingdom. I know this isn’t the capital city, so I can see why you might be surprised. My full name is Takashi Shirogane,” Shiro had explained.

 

Keith had stared at him with utter skepticism. Shiro could hardly blame him—he didn’t act much like a prince these days.

 

“How many names do you have?” Keith had said suspiciously. “How many names do you _need_?”

 

Shiro laughed at the memory. It had taken a lot of convincing, but Keith had conceded in the end that Shiro _might_ be a prince. Shiro had then tried to explain what he was a prince of—Keith had never heard of the Terran kingdom, further solidifying Shiro’s belief that the boy was a shipwreck survivor from far away—and that been an entirely different set of difficulties.

 

Shiro had pointed out places on the large map that hung on the wall of his study, naming the islands and large peninsula that made up the kingdom that he _truly was the prince of_ , concluding with “And this is us, Arizo.”

 

Keith had listened patiently before gently and regretfully informing Shiro that his map was “wrong”. The shoreline along Fornia was incorrect, Exico should have been much further south, and the marked currents were “guesswork at best”. Shiro had to laugh and then explained to Keith that while he was correct, this map was an antique, a present gifted to his grandfather’s grandfather by an explorer who likely hadn’t been to all the places and did his best to add the things he’d heard about. It was remarkable, really, that a boy who was ignorant of 90% of normal civilized activities was this well-informed about islands without even knowing their names—even more evidence to suggest that Keith had spent much of his life at sea, possibly on his own raft, eating his fish and swimming happily.

 

And, speaking of swimming, who should arrive but the boy himself, hair still dripping from his dip in the ocean.

 

“Hello, Keith,” Shiro smiled. “Did you have a nice swim?”

 

Keith grinned. “I am _great_ at swimming.”

 

Now _that_ one Shiro believed. It was one of the reasons he’d consented to Keith going to the beach unsupervised (as if he was in charge of Keith—get it together Shiro). The boy would be relatively safe, even though the thought of him in the water was enough to make Shiro queasy. Somehow, the image of a past Keith exploring the islands on a raft didn’t bother him, but anytime he thought of the ocean in the present a surge of nausea washed over him. How beautifully ironic: the prince of a seafaring kingdom, afraid of water.

 

Served him right.

 

Keith walked up to his usual chair and settled down, his face beaming with delight. How did that kid manage to be so utterly drenched in joy? His life had probably been much harder than Shiro’s, but it was like pain had never touched his soul. Shiro fervently hoped it would always remain that way and he intended to do his damnedest to ensure it.

 

“How are your papers?” Keith asked politely, looking at the stack of work still luxuriating on Shiro’s desk. Keith held them with a great deal more reverence than Shiro did, something Lance had no doubt orchestrated. He really couldn’t complain, though. He was eating at every meal (sometimes not a lot), sleeping every night (usually not a lot), and working through his numerous letters and ledgers every day (definitely not a lot).   In the grand scope of his life, it was absolutely pathetic, measuring “success” by whether he had eaten that day. In the smaller scope of the last year, it was cause for celebration.

 

Which was a perfect excuse if ever there was one.

 

“I’ve done enough work for now,” Shiro smiled. “How would you like to go horseback riding?”

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

It was too early to call it love—anyone with a rational mind would have told Keith that. Well, rationality be damned, because Keith was absolutely, completely, and irrevocably in love with his horse, Red. She was clearly the most perfect creature in all of creation, and wasn’t it said that Neptune loved horses? It all made sense.

 

“I don’t know if I’ve seen Red take a liking to someone so fast,” Shiro admitted with a chuckle. “I was going to tell you to ride a different horse, but you’ve proven me wrong.”

 

“I love her,” Keith declared.

 

“I can see that,” Shiro agreed, chuckling again.

 

Keith was lying on Red’s back, stretched across her with his head resting on her neck, arms slung around her in a loose hug. For her part, the horse waited patiently, munching on grass and swishing her tail. They had been riding all morning and now were stopped on a high atoll while the horses ate. The idea had been to get off and stretch and let the horses rest, but Keith pointed out that Red did not mind in the slightest that Keith was still riding, and Shiro had to agree the horse looked very content.

 

“She is beautiful,” Keith sighed happily, running his fingers through her mane. She was the wind made flesh, and once his feet were better, he was going to learn how to stay on when she jumped.

 

(He might have fallen off earlier.)

 

“As beautiful as a seal?” Shiro asked, a smile peeping around his serious expression.

 

Keith turned his head and to have a better view of Shiro. He was far more beautiful than any horse or seal. Probably more beautiful than anything he’d ever seen. He wouldn’t believe him, though, if Keith said it. He was still too sad. Thankfully, he was at least looking a little healthier. The deep bags under his eyes were fading and he didn’t look quite so tired. He was filling back out a little, too. For as long as Keith had been watching him, Shiro had always been broad and strong and full of life and energy. He was subdued down, turned inward.

 

But he was still beautiful.

 

“A horse is land and a seal is water and you are sky,” he said, which he doubted Shiro would understand. Shiro was _above_ horses and seals. It was okay if he didn’t know that yet. He would later. Today, Shiro was smiling and it reached his eyes, and that was enough for now.

 

(He was also blushing again. Keith was starting to wonder if it was a health problem.)

 

Shiro cleared his throat. “Are you enjoying the tour?”

 

“Yes!” Keith cried excitedly. They had covered half the island and Keith couldn’t believe it all belonged to one person. Why would someone ever need so much space? He couldn’t blame someone for wanting it all, though. The trees and grasses, the tiny ravines, the cliffs and hills—all of it was fascinating and Keith thought travelling over land was far more interesting than swimming. The tradeoff, however, was that it was far more tiring. No wonder humans had to eat all the time. His stomach growled in agreement.

 

“I ought to have brought a picnic,” Shiro laughed.

 

Keith nodded. He might not know what a picnic was, but if Shiro thought he should have brought one, then a picnic was exactly what they were missing.

 

“Shall we go to the castle?” Shiro asked.

 

“Castle?” Keith asked before he could stop himself. There was a limit to the number of words he should admit to not knowing in a given space of time.

 

“I know, I know, it’s not much of a castle—more like a stronghold, I guess—but still. No need to hurt my pride like that,” Shiro winked.

 

“Oh, _that_ castle,” Keith said after too long a pause.

 

“Keith,” Shiro said, a suspicion clearly forming, “do you know what a castle is?”

 

“Absolutely,” Keith said quickly.

 

“Yeah? And what is it?”

 

“Back that way,” Keith said, gesturing vaguely in the direction they’d come.

 

“Uh huh, and how would you describe it? What would you tell someone who has never seen it before?” Shiro persisted.

 

Fuck fuck fuck! He’d been doing so well lately, too! Keith felt sick as he tried to form a sentence out of stumbled half-words and Shiro—angel that he was—instantly took pity on him.

 

“It’s the big, stone building I live in,” he said. “You know, Keith, if you ever don’t know what a word means or what the name of something is, you can always ask me. I won’t judge you. I know you don’t remember a lot about your life, and I don’t want you to feel ashamed or uncomfortable. There’s nothing wrong with not knowing something. I’ll let you in on a secret: I’ve forgotten a lot of things, too, from before the time I lost my arm.”

 

Keith would later feel guilty over this moment. He hadn’t forgotten anything; he was ignorant to begin with and he was lying about it to this gentle man. But, Keith was currently overwhelmed by the gift of trust and vulnerability Shiro had just given him. “I won’t tell anyone,” he promised.

 

“I know you won’t,” Shiro said softly. “And anyway,” he continued, his voice returning to its normal volume, “it’s been coming back to me. Maybe yours will come back to you, too.”

 

To Keith’s surprise, that hurt. For the first time since coming ashore, Keith had to question what he was doing. That was a thought for later, however—Shiro had given Keith permission to ask (possibly stupid) questions, and Keith had plenty to ask.

 

“What is a picnic?” he said immediately.

 

“It’s a meal eaten out-of-doors. It’s packed before hand and brought somewhere. Usually it’s simple food, like sandwiches and fruit,” Shiro explained, smiling.

 

Keith nodded, thoughtfully. “And what are sandwiches?”

 

It was a long time before Keith ran out of questions, and to Shiro’s credit, if he regretted opening the floodgates, he didn’t show it.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

It occurred to Shiro that Keith might like to visit the port as well and it was a little closer than the castle, so he suggested they find lunch there, particularly because the boy had yet to stop asking food-related questions. He was either very hungry or had never eaten anything but fish in his life (the latter seeming especially likely).

 

“Here,” Shiro said, stopping at a stall in the open market, “this is an apple. Horses love apples. Shall we get one for Red?”

 

Keith’s eyes positively sparkled and he gasped audibly. That was a yes.

 

“Do horses like these?” Keith asked eagerly, picking up an eggplant.

 

“I don’t think so, but we could find out,” Shiro laughed.

 

They had left the horses at a stable on the edge of town and now were strolling through the market, lunch not yet acquired by virtue of Keith’s insatiable curiosity about food overshadowing his desire to eat it.

 

“And that?” he asked, pointing to a large wheel of cheese.

 

“It’s cheese. I don’t know if horses like it, but it’s probably not good for them,” Shiro said. “Horses eat plant foods, and cheese comes from milk.”

 

Keith stopped dead in his tracks and turned around slowly. “ _How_ ,” was all he said.

 

The stall merchant was both amused and pleased to explain the process to Keith, happily answering all his questions and inviting him to come by his farm and observe the steps himself. Keith was utterly enchanted and the merchant was surprised to find himself several coins richer when Shiro shook his hand as he thanked him for his time.

 

Shiro was finally able to convince Keith to stop and eat by explaining that he was hungry (a small lie, but he didn’t want the boy to keep walking so much—his feet were not fully healed). Keith immediately opted they grab the nearest available items for lunch and then happily led them to a bench, declaring the meal a “picnic”.

 

It was a perfect day. The sky was clear and the water calm. Perched on his bench, eyes shining as he gazed out at the bay, Keith looked at home. He was beautiful with the sea behind him and the wind in his hair. Somehow, it made Shiro’s heart ache. Someone like that, beautiful and free, must have someone who loved him. Were they missing him? Were they looking for him? Surely Keith wanted to be found. He needed to remember that all of this was temporary. Keith wasn’t going to stay, and it would be wrong to want him to.

 

Keith deserved better than him anyway. What he’d said earlier—about his memory—wasn’t exactly a secret, but it was something people carefully chose not to talk about. It did not reflect well on the kingdom to have a one-armed prince who was afraid of water, let alone one missing half his childhood. Still, Keith had looked at him with gratitude and wonder, like confessing a weakness was a gift and not a flaw. It was astonishing and almost frightening how easily he wormed his way always just a little deeper into Shiro’s heart.

 

Perhaps he should be putting up walls of some kind, keep a little distance to protect himself against Keith’s inevitable departure, but then who was to say how long Keith would be here? Weeks? Months? Years? And really, could he even make walls that the boy wouldn’t easily and immediately knock down? Perhaps he should focus on something else, maybe consider getting Keith a memento of some kind, perhaps a—

 

And that was when Keith screamed, jumped off the bench, and dashed down the street.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

Keith ran—well and truly _ran_ —to the shop. Pieces. Wheelie pieces. Heaps of them! Displayed in the window and more inside! More wheelie pieces than Keith could have possibly hoped to see in his lifetime! He pressed his nose against the glass and stared into the shop.

 

“Did you want to go in?” Shiro asked, walking up behind him, amusement heavy in his voice.

 

Remembering that he had permission to ask questions, Keith jabbed his finger excitedly at the nearest wheelie piece. “What is that?!”

 

“It’s a watch,” Shiro smiled. “Or, I suppose it’s a clock. Watches are the small ones you carry with you—clocks stay on your shelf or hang on the wall. So, do you want to go inside?”

 

“Is that okay?” he asked, chewing his lip. He really wanted to go in the shop. He also really, _really_ didn’t want to rely on his stupid human legs because they suddenly felt extremely weak. Keith relayed this fear to Shiro, who took the news harder than Keith expected.

 

“God, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let you walk this much. Do you need to sit down? How badly do your feet hurt?” he asked, worry etched in deep lines in his face.

 

Keith shook his head. “I just don’t want to fall down and break something.”

 

Shiro blinked several times and then pressed his hand to his mouth for some reason, but the worry was gone, and that was the main thing.

 

“I’ll catch you,” he promised. “Let’s go in.”

 

Mustering his courage, Keith nodded and entered the shop. He had once been in a pirate’s cave. It held less treasure than this small room and Keith was overwhelmed, surrounded by so much wealth.

 

“What do they do?” he whispered.

 

“They measure time,” Shiro said. He pointed to nearest one. It had three black lines on it, ringed by strange symbols. The thinnest of the black lines rotated slowly, accompanied by a soft ticking sound.

 

So, he and Pidge were both wrong.

 

(Pidge was a little closer, drat her.)

 

It made a lot of sense that humans would measure time. They lived such short lives—not even a third as long as mers—and they had so many possessions. They kept things to wear and things to eat with and to make other things with and had specialized wooden boxes to separate hold everything. Why wouldn’t they hold time, too, anyway they could?

 

Shiro explained the second, minute, and hour “hands”. There were twelve symbols, but apparently a day had twenty-four hours, so that was confusing.

 

(Humans practically went out of their way to make things confusing.)

 

“And as you can see, the hour hand is almost at the ‘2’, so it’s nearly 2 o’clock in the afternoon,” Shiro concluded. “Does that make sense?”

 

The hour hand ticked up to the 12 and a clock on the wall split open, a wooden creature springing out to scream twice and disappear. Keith leapt behind Shiro with a shout and dug his hands into Shiro’s coat, head pressed into his back, shaking.

 

“That was a cuckoo clock, Keith. I should have warned you, sorry,” Shiro said, slowly turning around to face Keith as the merman reluctantly freed his hands. “The bird always makes noise at the start of an hour.”

 

The other clocks had made sound, too, but only one of them had burst _out_ at him. Shiro and the shopkeeper were perfectly calm. He must look like an idiot, but who in their right mind would make a clock that could attack someone like that?!

 

“I hate it,” Keith whispered.

 

“I’m sorry,” Shiro said, patting Keith on the shoulder. “Do you like the other ones?”

 

He did. Very much.

 

Shiro convinced him to look at the watches on display, and they were the kind he recognized—small circles, filled with wheels. As an apology for frightening Keith, the shopkeeper showed him what they looked like on the inside and explained how they worked. It was fascinating, but it made Keith sad. He wished Pidge could be here. He’d do his best to tell her about all of it, but he would probably forget something important.

 

“Which one is your favorite?” Shiro asked, pulling Keith back to the present.

 

Now _that_ was a difficult question. The shopkeeper pointed out the differences in styles which helped some, but it was still 10 minutes and 17 seconds (which he correctly read on the watches!) before he settled on one.

 

Shiro smiled at him warmly. “I like that one, too. I’d like to buy it,” he said to the shopkeeper.

 

Keith smiled back. He was proud to have helped Shiro make such an important purchase. And then, the strangest thing happened. Shiro handed him the watch. Did he want Keith to carry it for him?

 

“That’s for you,” Shiro said. “To keep.”

 

“For how long?” Keith asked, dutifully ready to keep _exact_ track of the time.

 

“Forever. It’s yours.”

 

Keith stared at Shiro, unable to say anything for 27 seconds. He swallowed hard. “Is…is it a gift? For me?”

 

“Absolutely,” Shiro smiled. “It’s for you. I want you to have it.”

 

Heat rose to Keith’s cheeks and his heart did a weird half pound in his chest. He swallowed hard and looked down. Was he sick? No, it was something else. Something new. Did humans feel this way when they were very happy? No, his body must be broken because he felt like crying, but yet he was so very happy. He bit his lip hard to keep back the tears. “Thank you,” he whispered.

 

“You’re welcome,” Shiro said softly. “Let’s go outside.”

 

His hand was gentle on the small of Keith’s back as he guided him back to their bench. Keith was trembling a little as he held the watch, fingers tight around it for fear of dropping it. Shiro showed him how to attach it to a little chain he’d bought that kept it safely bound to his chest. It was such a good idea. Shiro was such a smart person.

 

He couldn’t know, though. Humans had so many possessions, how could one possibly know what it meant to a mer? Mers lent and borrowed, easily and often, and they bartered and exchanged items with friends and family with liberal generosity (sometimes taking only pebbles in return). Mers _gave_ rarely—almost never. Keith had been given two things in his whole life: a knife from his mother and a tiny horse carving from Pidge. Both items were hidden in his home cave, buried deep and taken out only on special days.

 

And Shiro had given him something. Something beautiful and precious and Keith could never find a way to thank him properly. He wouldn’t _understand_. He’d receive it as a human, and that was nice, but it wouldn’t be what Keith meant. He would try, though. He would try very hard.

 

“I will take very good care of it,” Keith promised, his voice hoarse for some reason.

 

Shiro just smiled, that tender little smile that seemed to be just for Keith, and the heat rose in Keith’s cheeks again and his heart was somehow in his ears and it almost hurt, and Keith _needed_ to look away but he couldn’t.

 

“Well,” Shiro said, turning away, his cheeks red again, “there’s something I want to do while we’re in town, but then perhaps I can show you a very large clock. And don’t worry, it’s not a cuckoo clock,” he added with a grin.

 

The thing Shiro wanted to do was go into a building, ask if he had any letters, and then sort through them, pick one, and read it twice while frowning.

 

It took him 3 minutes and 11 seconds the first time he read it. It took him 7 minutes and 38 seconds the second time, his frown deepening all the while.

 

At last, he folded the letter and tucked the stack into his vest pocket. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before turning to face Keith. Why did his smile look so tight?

 

“Let’s go down to the docks,” he said.

 

And that’s how Keith knew for sure that something was very, very wrong.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big chapter to help tide (lol) you over for the aftermath of Season 7. New seasons always wreck (lol) me for a while, so it might be a lil bit before I update again. Or, it might inspire the hell out of me. We shall see.
> 
> I forgot to mention in my notes last chapter why I talked about Keith needing to use the restroom (loo, crapper, whatever you call it where you’re from)…. it’s because my husband and I had an argument about how/when/where mermaids poop.
> 
> Hubby: So what happens when Keith craps his pants?  
> Me: ????  
> Hubby: You know, because he’s a fish?  
> Me: Mermaids are sentient creatures. They have designated pooping areas.  
> Hubby: They’re fish. When they poop, it just floats away.  
> Me: But they wouldn’t poop inside their caves! It would just float around the room and that would be embarrassing!  
> Hubby: *laughing* Can you imagine a town hall meeting, and all that poop just floating there?  
> Me: Wtf.
> 
> And so I HAD to make a scene where Keith knows to not shit the bed or his pants. Jebus fricking Krist. Blame my husband.
> 
> Anyone notice something about the island names? XD Arizo = Arizona, Fornia = California, Exico = Mexico. I AM SO CLEVER WITH NAMES GUYS. The Garrison is in Arizona, yeah? Well, this story is set in more like…England/Denmark/Oregon Coast mash up. Yup. But the names, guys. The names. 
> 
> On Keith’s food adventures: he turns into a land vegetarian once he learns that beef comes from cows. He cries. ;^; Hunk is really great about making meals that don’t include land meat. Lance gets sick of fish. Things get a little better when Shiro takes Keith to the dairy farm and he learns that they don’t kill the cows to get milk and cheese. Still no beef. Keith loves cows, but not as much as horses. Can you imagine if he got to meet a hippo?
> 
> About mers and gifts—Keith and Pidge “give” each other stuff all the time. They find stuff in shipwrecks or just randomly around they know the other person would like and bring it to them, but that’s not considered the same thing. That’s more like an ongoing trade. Pidge is a weird mermaid in that she is a hoarder of human artifacts, but she doesn’t necessarily keep them all, especially if they’re metal. 
> 
> It would absolutely shock humans to learn how little mers care about gold/gems. It’s shiny, and they kind of like it, but they feel the same way about glass and pretty shells. Wheelie pieces, on the other hand…
> 
> Gifts are such a big deal that if a mer stole something from another mer (not common), and the second mer told the first one that the item they stole was a gift, the thief would return it immediately.
> 
> Like in the original Little Mermaid, my mer live about 300 years. We’ll find out how old Keith is later. :3
> 
> Keith is falling in love~~ And, just like every good shojo heroine, when his heart goes doki doki, he wonders if he’s sick.
> 
> I couldn’t help myself.
> 
> Love you guys!! Good luck to everyone for Season 7!!
> 
> P.S. Did anyone guess that wheelie pieces were watches? XD


	6. Your kisses are the salt in my wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which less fun is had by all and thoughtful discussions follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Fish die belly upward, and rise to the surface. It’s their way of falling.”  
> ― Andre Gide
> 
>  
> 
> Trigger warning for panic attack.

Keith trotted alongside Shiro, quiet and still clutching his watch (adorable). Shiro was vaguely grateful for the silence. He had no issue answering Keith’s questions (also adorable), but right now… Right now he was going to the docks, and it was hard to think about anything but breathing, slow and even.

 

The sun was bright on the water. There was a time when that would have been beautiful. There was also a time when he would have studied the winds, admired the rigging, chatted with the fisherman about their catches and the sailors about the currents. The cabin boys would have scurried to alert the captains to his presence, and they in turn would have updated him on any sightings or rumors of Galra ships. Today, no one said more to him than a murmured “M’lord” and an occasional “Pleasure to see you”.

 

He recognized no one.

 

The scent of brine and salt, once a promise of adventure, nearly gagged him. As subtly as possible, he switched to breathing through his mouth (but then he could taste it. And that was worse).

 

The north dock.

 

The longest dock. The one he would walk if he left for the capital.

 

(The one he had walked the last time).

 

If he could walk the length, if he could make it to the end, if he could make it back, then… then it would be enough. For now. If he could take the step, first creaking step, the first step on the salt-soaked wood and _just start walking_ it would be enough to move and he could walk, he could do this, he could take a step and he would start and it would be enough.

 

The letter burned hot in his pocket. Over his heart. Heavy. Demanding.

 

Jaw clenched, knuckles white, water lapping at the pier. One step. Three. Fifteen.

 

“Good day, m’lord.”

 

“Pleasure to see you.”

 

Thirty.

 

Water at the pier.

 

_Waves over wood._

 

Salt.

 

Salt in his nostrils.

 

_Salt burning, biting, bright in his lungs._

 

Fifty-eight. Fifty-nine. Sixty. Slow and even. Slow, and even. Slow. Slow slow _slow slow slow slow._

 

Falling bright dark under and back and deep and water water and why couldn’t he stop? Why couldn’t he breathe? Screaming and salt and blood and gunpowder and what _was around his neck_. Who was screaming whose blood whose blood in the water and what was around his neck _what was around his neck_. He couldn’t breathe he couldn’t move he couldn’t not one more step just one more one more breath whose blood was in the water who—

 

“Shiro? Can I hold your hand?”

 

Who was it? Who wanted that? There was a soft pressure on his hand, carefully cradling it and weaving through his fingers.

 

“…Keith?” Shiro asked, voice cracked and foreign.

 

“Is this alright?”

 

(It was Keith.)

 

Shiro nodded. The softly woven fingers pulled a little and he followed them. He was going somewhere, and that was okay. He was too tired for fighting. He was too deep and too tired. He would sink and be swallowed. A shadow over his face, a gentle pressure on his shoulders and then he was sitting, cool stones under him. Shade.

 

He blinked slowly. He was in an alley, near the docks but no longer on them. He couldn’t see the ocean. He could breathe.

 

Shiro hung his head between his knees and wrap his arm around them, shaking and breathing hard.

 

A soft and old song, free of words, came from behind him. Keith. Keith was sitting behind him, around him, his chest close to Shiro’s back.

 

“Can I braid your hair?” Keith asked softly.

 

Shiro made an aborted noise that might have meant yes. Keith took it as permission and his fingers crept through the mess the wind had made, slowly teasing out the tangles. His nails scratched lightly against Shiro’s scalp as he separated strands. It was nice.

 

Shiro took in another shuddering breath. “How bad was it,” he asked, exhausted.

 

The singing stopped, but the fingers kept at their work. “I...I don’t know what it normally is,” Keith confessed, “but you threw up and you...you were crying.”

 

“That sounds about like the usual,” Shiro snorted. He was silent for a minute, working to slow his breathing. “Fuck,” he muttered at last. “That was stupid.”

 

“Do...do you want me to finish it for you? The reason you needed to go to the docks?” Keith asked hesitantly.

 

“Fuck,” Shiro said with more feeling, wiping his hand over his face. He was objectively disgusting at the moment, sweat-soaked and tear-stained and no doubt smelling of bile. “No, I found out what I wanted to.”

 

After a moment of silence between them, Keith started his singing again and began to work on the braid in earnest.

 

“Are you not going to ask?” Shiro said, somehow annoyed.

 

“What you wanted from the docks? Or something else?” Keith said.

 

Shiro shrugged. “Anything, I guess.”

 

“Did I do alright? Is that what I should do when you’re sick?”

 

What the fuck was with this kid? Shiro was missing an arm, clearly unable to get anywhere near the ocean, and he had crippling attacks, but all he wants to know is how he can _help_?   Well, Shiro was fucking tired of people trying to help him.

 

But...he wasn’t tired of Keith.

 

“The singing was nice,” Shiro admitted.

 

Keith finished the braid and then scooted around Shiro. He didn’t face him—which was good. He sat next to him and looked down the alley, humming quietly to himself. They stayed that way, waiting next to each other and watching the tiny sliver of the market.

 

“The letter was from my sister,” Shiro said at last. “She’s getting married.”

 

Keith stopped humming, but he didn’t press further.

 

“She apologized. _She_ apologized to _me_ because they’re holding it in the capital which means I won’t be there,” Shiro said, voice tight. “Oh well. It’s not like anyone would want me there but her anyway,” he said with a bitter laugh. “It’s more convenient to forget me. Hell, it would have been easier for them if I’d just died.”

 

“Do _you_ wish you had died?” Keith asked.

 

Shiro turned to look at him. “You know, you’re the first person to ask me that. Everyone has been so damned concerned, making sure I don’t kill myself, and no one even asked if I _wanted_ to die,” Shiro said, thoughtful.

 

Keith said nothing and looked down at his hands.

 

“Yeah. Sometimes,” Shiro said finally.

 

“And today?” Keith asked quietly.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Keith leaned his head against Shiro’s knee.

 

“I’m glad that I got to meet you, Takashi Shirogane. I’m sorry that you’re sad,” he whispered.

 

Fuck.

 

Shiro put his hand on Keith’s head, petting it gently. “I’m glad I got to meet you, too, Keith-from-the-ocean,” he whispered back.

 

They stayed in the alley for a long, long time.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

Keith had somehow forgotten that he was afraid of humans. His determination to find out Hero’s fate combined with his confidence in his leg-disguise and the incredible perfection that was Shiro had assuaged his fears to the point that he had been downright comfortable during his time on the shore. This changed the instant Shiro crumbled to the pier and they were flocked by crowds of sailors, doubtlessly trying to help but obviously making the situation worse.

 

He hissed.

 

(Humans did not hiss.)

 

The crowd had stared at him.   Had he revealed himself? He desperately wanted to dive into the safety of the water but that would mean abandoning Shiro, and that was not possible. When the crowd did not rush to attack him, he took advantage of their momentary silence.

 

“Get back! He needs room,” he said tightly. And then, he turned his back on them so that he could face Shiro.

 

Keith was terrified.   He had his back to the enemy but _he could not leave_. Shiro needed him. These men had yelled and tried to touch him and they called for someone to bring him _water_ which had made Shiro start heaving. Surely, if Shiro was their prince, they knew of his fear? How could they possibly be so stupid as to call for water, even if he might calm down to drink a few sips?

 

Shiro was gasping and clawing at his neck, ripping at the collar of his shirt. He didn’t stop—once the cloth was gone, his fingers raked across his flesh. Keith didn’t know what to do. Shiro couldn’t hear him right now, could he? And when the men had tried to touch him, Shiro had screamed.

 

There were red scratches on his throat.

 

He had to try.

 

“Shiro? Can I hold your hand?” he said softly, barely tracing his fingers down the back of Shiro’s hand.

 

Shiro paused his frantic movements, and Keith slipped their fingers together. He wasn’t clawing now. Good.

 

“…Keith?” Shiro asked at last, voice so hoarse Keith could barely recognize his name.

 

“Is this alright?” Keith asked, and thank Neptune Shiro nodded.

 

From there it had been easy to guide the prince away from the water and back into town. He was quiet now, eyes dead and shoulders slumped. He hoped it was a good sign.

 

Shiro was a mess with his wounded throat and torn collar, but Keith knew he couldn’t address that just yet. He settled for fixing Shiro’s hair, singing a song he knew Shiro loved.

 

It worked.

 

(But it was not enough.)

 

Had Keith even been right to save Shiro? He had never considered that. As a prince, Shiro must have so many people depending on him—people that were far away, and now Shiro was effectively imprisoned on an island on the edge of his kingdom: an exile. Hero was a gentle, giving man who was no longer able to give of himself, forced instead to be dependent on everyone else. He couldn’t help the people he wanted to—he couldn’t be _him_. No wonder he wanted to die.

 

Shiro wasn’t just sad: he was heartbroken, and maybe this wasn’t something Keith could fix.

 

(But, didn’t he still have to try?)

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

It was late afternoon before they left the alley and the shadows were long by the time they reached the castle. Shiro couldn’t help but be a little charmed and cheered by Keith’s flood of questions for the stable boy regarding the care and keeping of horses, but he was exhausted and excused himself, leaving Keith to fawn over Red on his own. He retired to his study to allow himself some quiet and privacy. Naturally, Lance found him almost immediately.

 

“I was starting to worry. I thought you two were coming back for lunch and then I heard you went to the docks. You look awful. How can I help?” he asked anxiously.

 

“Good news spreads fast, doesn’t it,” Shiro sighed. “Yes, I went to the docks. Yumi’s getting married.”

 

Lance’s faced turned soft. “Shiro, I’m so sorry.”

 

Shiro shrugged. “It was bound to happen at some point. She’s marrying someone she loves, so hopefully that will keep her distracted and I won’t be missed.”

 

Lance frowned. “That’s it? You’re only going to try once?”

 

And _that_ pissed him off. “What part of me screaming, crying, and throwing up on the docks confuses you? I thought I was making progress, Lance! The nightmares are less, I’ve been eating, and hell—I went to the beach to look for Keith! I’m _not_ getting better and I was an idiot to think otherwise.”

 

“Shiro,” Lance said firmly, “you had a bad day. A really shitty day. But it’s _one_ day. And what did you think was going to happen—you were under huge pressure and instead of taking a minute or an hour or a week to get yourself together, you went _immediately_ to the docks. I’m not saying that meant you set yourself up to fail, but you did walk into a situation where the deck was stacked against you. You had a shit day, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t made progress and it doesn’t mean you won’t make progress. Don’t give up on yourself, okay? You’ve been amazing. I know you can’t see that, but it’s true. I was there from the beginning and trust me, you really have gotten better.”

 

 _Not enough_ , Shiro thought to himself miserably, but he stayed silent. He knew Lance understood him anyway.

 

Lance cleared his throat. “So, do you want some help with the scratches?”

 

“What scratches?”

 

Lance winced. “You tore up your throat again.”

 

Shiro’s hand immediately went to his neck and felt the tender, raised wounds. How had he failed to notice the stinging before now? “Fuck,” he growled. “In front of the whole damn town, too.”

 

Lance gave him a sympathetic look that clearly added “And Puppy?” without saying a single word.

 

“He was having a lot of fun before that,” Shiro sighed, looking away. “It was almost…good. _I_ was almost good.”

 

“You know you don’t have to try _at all_ with him, right?” Lance said gently. “He thinks you hung the stars in the sky.”

 

“He’s in for a surprise then,” Shiro muttered.

 

“I dunno,” Lance grinned, “on my way up here I overheard him to talking to the horse. He was _thanking_ it for helping him have a ‘superb day’. You haven’t put him off yet.”

 

Wow. Just wow.

 

A knock sounded at the door and he beckoned the servant in.

 

“Begging your pardon, but the sea lad wanted me to tell you not to worry, he will be back in 1 hour and 25 minutes,” the servant said.

 

Wow. Just wow.

 

“That’s pretty specific,” Lance said, amused.

 

Shiro just shook his head. “I bought him a watch.”

 

Lance laughed. “Sounds like a good investment. Don’t worry—I’ll check to make sure he gets back in time.”

 

Shiro nodded. He was grateful—it would be getting dark in an hour and 25 minutes and Keith was likely at the beach. He could not handle him swimming at night. He just couldn’t.

 

Lance paused at the door on his way out. “You’re a pretty great guy, Shiro. I’m not surprised someone noticed.”

 

“Thanks, Lance. You’re a pretty great guy yourself,” Shiro smiled.

 

Lance winked. “And the ladies know it.”

 

Shiro chuckled as the door shut. Lance really was a great guy.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

Keith stood on the beach, scream-whistling to Pidge for a full 49 minutes before she appeared, out of breath and her hair a disaster. With the time it took for him to travel to and from the beach, it left him with only 12 minutes to recap his day and beg her advice.

 

She listened patiently, suppressing the urge to interrupt and ask questions (a monumental feat of self control), and when he concluded, she asked, “So, do you think I should stop work on the arm? Because I didn’t hustle my fin from the forge to find out you don’t want it anymore.”

 

“I just don’t know if it would help,” Keith stressed. “Will it still make him happy? He’s afraid of water. That’s a lot bigger than not being able to play the song re—uh, flute.”

 

Pidge considered this a minute. “Well,” she said slowly, “you can’t really fix his arm, either, but you can make things better, and that seems worth doing to me. Plus, you were there to help him when he was sick, and that counts for something. So, don’t give up yet, okay?”

 

Keith grinned in relief. “Pidge you’re the absolute best, you know that?” he said, flinging his arms around her.

 

“Please stop hugging me when your bits are out,” she complained (hugging him back anyway), “and I still think you’re an idiot.”

 

“Oh! Oh!!” Keith cried, pulling back. “He gave me a wheelie piece! It’s called a ‘watch’ and it keeps track of time. Oh,” he said, his face falling, “but I’ll have to get you another one, because this one was a _gift_.”

 

Pidge slugged him hard in the shoulder. “You brat! How is that not the first thing you told me?! A wheelie piece? A _gift_?!!”

 

“Keith? Keith, are you down there?” a voice called from the cliff.

 

“Oh _shit_ that’s Lance McClain!” Keith hissed. “You need to go.”

 

Pidge stuck her tongue out before disappearing under the water.

 

“Yes I am,” Keith called back up the cliff. “And I’m naked, so go away. I’ll be right up.”

 

“Yup, take your time,” Lance McClain yelled back.

 

Keith took 4 minutes and 18 seconds.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, sorry for a sad chapter. And for a chapter title that really wasn't a pun (but the sea is salty, so...??). And triple sorry that they held hands for the first time and it wasn't fluffy. ;^; Annnnd sorry that it's not a long chapter. Already started work on the next one, though! I'll try to get it out quickly 'cause it's not a sad one (maybe a little bit at the beginning). 
> 
> So, no spoilers for the folks that haven't seen Season 7, but I don't understand all the hate. There were a few things I didn't like and a few things I thought they could have done better, but so what? They don't owe us anything, and this is a kid's show and they don't have the time or budget to tell ALL the story they want to. Give them a break. Jebus krist. 
> 
> Lance *is* a great guy. He's a doofus and has some maturing to do, but I love him. <3 The Allurance is breaking my goddamn heart, though, not gonna lie. Not that I ever thought Plance would be canon, but I love it so much omg. So much. I used to think I didn't care that much about ships, but then I remembered I'm still hung up on Fruits Basket. A decade later.
> 
> I feel like I had a lot more to say about this chapter but now I can't remember it, lol. If you care about that sort of thing, check back later to see if I edited in more ramblings!


	7. Can I read between your lines?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lance reports in with Hunk, Shiro tries a little harder, and Keith takes a practical approach to sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Fishing is boring, unless you catch an actual fish, and then it is disgusting.”  
> ― Dave Barry

It was admittedly a little dark when Lance went to check on Puppy (a few minutes early, but who’s counting?), but for all the world it looked like Keith was chatting with a pile of seaweed.

 

God help him.

 

Lance shook his head. Somehow, this punk was helping Shiro in ways he hadn’t thought possible—not for a few years, anyway. He was weird and entertaining and it was damn funny to watch Shiro spiral over him. Not a bad kid, all considered.

 

(Still fucking weird, though.)

 

Soon enough, Puppy scrambled up the steps and joined him.

 

“I still had three minutes before I needed to leave,” Keith informed him casually, like he expected Lance to be impressed with his timekeeping capabilities but was trying to play it close to the chest.

 

“Did you have a nice swim?” Lance asked, deciding it was easier to just ignore the time thing.

 

“I learned a lot,” Keith beamed.

 

“Really?” Lance said, arching an eyebrow. “From swimming? Aren’t you already the best at swimming?”

 

“I am,” Keith agreed, nodding. “Swimming is when I think.”

 

Well, thank god you do think _sometimes_.

 

“So, what did you think about?” Lance asked, curious but already knowing the answer: Shiro.

 

“I realized I can’t make Shiro happy, but I can make him less sad, and that’s okay, too,” Keith said.

 

Lance blinked. “That’s…really astute, actually.”

 

Keith smiled bashfully and brushed back a stray lock that had escaped his braid, and Lance would have payed good money to watch Shiro react to that.

 

Yup. Not a bad kid.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

Shiro was really, _really_ close to refusing supper, but Lance of course brought Keith in with him, and so he managed to get a few bites down.

 

(He still would not be sleeping tonight.)

 

They didn’t talk much, but if the silence was a little uncomfortable, it was by no means awkward. It was careful, and Shiro almost appreciated it. At last, he was done pushing food around his plate in a vain attempt to psyche himself into eating more, and he cleared his throat.

 

“I’m sorry if I ruined our day out,” he said. Keith had been having a superb day until Shiro panicked. He deserved an apology, even though he probably didn’t need one.

 

Keith shook his head rapidly. “It wasn’t ruined. It was probably the best day of my life,” he stressed, but then looked mortified and stammered that he didn’t mean because of the docks and he didn’t mean to make light of Shiro’s sickness and he hadn’t—

 

“It’s okay, Keith,” Shiro interrupted gently. “I know what you meant.” And if this was still one of the best days of your life, I’m going to try harder and raise your standards. He cleared his throat again. “Thank you, for spending the day with me and for…well, for helping me on the docks.”

 

Keith smiled, eyes brighter than they had been since before the docks. “I’m so glad, Takashi Shirogane.”

 

“You can still just call me Shiro,” the prince laughed.

 

“It’s important to be formal sometimes,” Keith replied, and Shiro wondered what Keith would think of the mass of titles that usually accompanied his name in “formal” settings.

 

Shiro cleared his throat yet again. God, it was hard to say these things, but he really, really needed to.

 

“I want to take back what I said earlier—there _are_ some days I wish I had died, but today wasn’t one of them. It...it was a bad day,” he said, “but it wasn’t of them.”

 

Keith’s eyes were impossibly gentle. He pushed his chair back from the small table, pulled it around to Shiro’s side and sat back down. Hesitantly, he offered his hand. The simple gesture made Shiro’s heart pound. He reached out and let Keith cautiously fold his hands around him, as if Shiro was a frightened bird that might fly away if Keith wasn’t careful.

 

“I thought you were very brave today, you know,” Keith said quietly. “When something has hurt you, it makes sense to be afraid of it. You’re right to be afraid of the water, and you walked up to it anyway because you love your sister. You might not think it, but…you’re strong. That’s what I think, anyway.” He squeezed Shiro’s hand lightly and Shiro gripped him hard back.

 

“God,” he whispered, “how are you even real?”

 

Keith blushed and stammered, “M-magic?” making Shiro laugh. Reluctantly, Shiro released his hand.

 

“It’s probably about time for me to try getting some sleep,” he announced. It was a lie. He would not be allowing himself to sleep, not the night after such a strong attack, but he didn’t trust himself not to hold onto Keith and beg him to stay for the night if he remained near him any longer. He honestly did only want to hold him, but it wouldn’t be fair to ask, not when Keith didn’t understand the implications. One day, maybe. But not tonight.

 

Keith dutifully whipped out his watch and checked the time. “It is 7:58,” he announced, and then looked expectantly at Shiro as if to verify if that indeed meant it was time for bed.

 

“7:58, huh?” Shiro mused. “Come here,” he said, walking to a window and opening it. “I didn’t end up showing you that clock, but this is the next best thing.”

 

Curious, Keith joined him at the window, peering out into the darkness. It was not fully night yet, but it was close, and what lights from town that were not visible around the edge of hills could be seen reflected in the bay. It was beautiful, and Keith looked at it in wonder.

 

“Thank you for showing me,” Keith said, turning to Shiro with round and grateful eyes, and damned if he wasn’t far more captivating than anything outside the window.

 

Shiro prayed the dim light hid his blush. “Ah, not that—wait for a minute. Not a literal minute,” he hastily amended, “just, a little bit of time.”

 

Keith paused, hands already holding his watch so he could track the minute, and nodded before carefully tucking the watch away.

 

(Shiro might have created a menace.)

 

And, less than a minute later, a deep and lonely chime sounded, slow and long, eight times. Shiro turned back to Keith.

 

“That was the town clock. I’ll take you to see it, but when the weather is calm you can hear it from here,” he said, smiling.

 

“We can go back to town again?” Keith asked carefully, like he was afraid to hope for so wonderful a gift.

 

“Of course we can,” Shiro smiled. “You’re not a prisoner here, you know. You’re free to leave the castle whenever you wish. I’ll worry, though, if you don’t tell me where you’ve gone, but...you’re a guest and, well, I hope you don’t feel like you have to stay here.”

 

“Where else would I want to be?” Keith asked, genuinely confused.

 

“Out looking for your family, maybe?” Shiro suggested hesitantly.   He desperately pressed down the hope that Keith’s words made rise—that he wanted to stay, like it was a natural and obvious thing.

 

Keith shook his head. “I don’t want to be somewhere else unless I’m going there with you.”

 

Shiro had to dig his nails deep into his palm to keep from pulling the boy to his chest.

 

He loved Keith. He didn’t know in what capacity yet, but he knew that the boy from the ocean was inexpressibly precious. He needed to cherish him; he could not afford to be greedy.

 

“Goodnight, Keith,” he said quietly, and left before he could do something he might regret.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

When Keith went to bed, his head and heart were full of Shiro. That wasn’t anything unusual, but now there was a different flavor. Why had Shiro looked so wistful before he left? There had been a question in his eyes he hadn’t had the courage to ask. Didn’t Shiro know he could ask Keith anything? Maybe he should tell him that.

 

He decided to rebraid his hair before crawling under the covers, and it reminded him of when he had braided Shiro’s, the way the silver strands had looked in his hands and how the prince had sighed and relaxed, leaning into his touch. The heat from earlier returned to his cheeks, remembering the sensation of Shiro’s fingers in his hair and when their palms had touched and clasped. And how was it that his hand felt so much better in Keith’s than his own or Pidge’s or his mother’s? Shouldn’t hands just feel like hands?

 

Keith settled himself under his covers, carefully placing his gift on the pillow next to him. He fell asleep to the gentle ticking of his watch, wondering if this was what it would sound like to sleep next to someone’s heart.

 

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

“Guess what I did this morning,” Lance said to Hunk several weeks later as he flounced into the kitchen. He reached to help himself to a spoonful of whatever the chef was stirring up and yelped as Hunk smacked his hand.

 

“Something you’re about to tell me?” Hunk guessed.

 

“Vague, but correct,” Lance conceded. “I just oversaw the placement of bulletins requesting information on Keith.”

 

Hunk whistled low. “Is the honeymoon over?”

 

Lance picked up an apple and took a loud bite. “Nope,” he said, chewing with his mouth open, “his guilt got the better of him. Since Puppy isn’t remembering anything on his own, now Shiro’s gotta do his part or something.”

 

“Yikes. What happens if someone claims him?” Hunk said.

 

Lance shrugged. “If Puppy wants to go, Shiro isn’t going to stop him. If he wants to stay….”

 

“Then I get to make a wedding cake?” Hunk guessed.

 

“Hah! Maybe in a decade. You have no idea how gone these two are for each other, but they just sit there like idiots. It’s disgusting. And hilarious.”

 

“I think it’s cute,” Hunk smiled. “I like Keith. He was down here the other day, and he was really curious and helpful and didn’t try to lick my spoons.”

 

“If that was a jab at yours truly, then I shall have to remind you that you love my company,” Lance said loftily, making his friend snort. “Anyway, Shiro’s been trying to teach Puppy how to read and it’s horrible and hilarious and it makes Shiro write more, so that was a genius bit of maneuvering on my part, and I deserve to lick the spoon,” he concluded.

 

Hunk begrudgingly handed over a spoon and then picked up a fresh one.

 

“Hey, speaking of eating, did I tell you Puppy tried to eat soap?”

 

Hunk choked on air. “What? Why?”

 

“Didn’t know what it was for and thought it might be a type of cheese,” Lance grinned.

 

“That explains why he asked me if people ever rub cheese on themselves,” Hunk laughed.

 

“I honestly don’t think it’s just the shipwreck thing—he might just be dumb,” Lance said, shaking his head. “He still can’t button his clothes properly by himself. And Shiro _doesn’t even notice_.”

 

“I’d tell you to lay off but that might be a problem when Lord West arrives,” Hunk frowned. “Shiro will go ballistic if anyone makes fun of Keith.”

 

“Dammit, I should have thought of that,” Lance said, smacking his forehead. “I’ll make sure I’m on Puppy dress-up detail. Not much I can do about his other ‘problems’ but if he looks presentable, that’s half the battle.” He stretched over the counter with a groan. “Uuugh just thinking of Adam being here is annoying. He’s going to set back Shiro _so_ much.”

 

“You don’t know that,” Hunk said reasonably. “It might be good for him.”

 

“I pretty much know that,” Lance insisted. “Seeing your former lover when you hate the way you look? Not good. Seeing your former lover when you hate _yourself_? Very not good. Seeing your former lover and watching them judge your current crush and knowing they’re a little bit right? Extremely not good. Seeing your former lover and—”

 

“Right, right, I get it,” Hunk said, rolling his eyes. “It’s going to be a disaster. So, how long until disaster strikes? Do you have an update?”

 

“Three days, depending on the winds.”

 

“Three days, huh? You better make sure I get my next delivery of wine by then. Officers and sailors _demand_ to get drunk, and we’re going to be hosting way too many of them.”

 

Lance sat up and give his friend a crisp (if somewhat mocking) salute. “I have my orders, then. I shall seek out supplies and lay at them your feet.”

 

“On the counters would be fine, thanks,” Hunk said, rolling his eyes.

 

“I must remind you again that you love my company,” Lance said, and he left with a wink.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

Keith was sitting close. Very close.

 

(It was nice.)

 

It was also distracting. But, if Shiro was going to teach Keith how to read, close proximity was inevitable, and so they sat side by side in the castle’s library, Keith watching as Shiro pointed to the words as he read them aloud.

 

“Gryphons are dangerous beasts. They have the claws and wings of eagles and the bodies of lions. They roost in the mountains of Ocki and eat horses and men,” Shiro read, wondering why exactly this was considered a book for children. Still, it had illustrations and large, simple print, so it served the purpose.

 

“I hate gryphons,” Keith announced, “because I love horses.”

 

“A very fair judgment,” Shiro smiled, and he turned the page. “Merfolk swim in the Lavender Sea off the shores of Ashingto. They have the bodies of beautiful humans and the tails of fish and have been known to drown sailors to eat their flesh and swallow their souls.”

 

“That’s not true,” Keith said fiercely.

 

Shiro glanced up, surprised to see fury and something like betrayal in Keith’s face. “None of it is,” Shiro said. “It’s a book of mythological creatures.” Keith stared at him, suspicion and anger still reigning over him.

 

“What does ‘mythological’ mean?” he asked warily, eyeing the book like he was considering ripping it to shreds.

 

“It has to do with ‘myths’, which are old stories no one thinks are true anymore,” Shiro explained. “You don’t need to worry about gryphons, either,” he added, hoping to soothe the boy in some way.

 

Keith frowned, thinking hard. “So, you don’t believe merfolk exist?” he asked slowly.

 

“I’ve never seen one,” Shiro said. “Have you?” And shit he wished he could take that back because it sounded patronizing, but for all he knew, Keith _had_ seen one (or rather, thought he had) during his time away from shore.

 

Keith said nothing, still frowning.

 

“We can stop reading, if you want,” Shiro suggested.

 

Keith bit his lip and then shook his head. “No, I want to learn.”

 

Shiro considered suggesting they simply pick a different book, but he didn’t want Keith to think he was coddling him. He turned the page.

 

“Sirens live on the rocky shores of the Ancu Islands. They are beautiful half-birds who sing to sailors and lure them to wreck their ships before they eat them,” Shiro read, cringing internally. As expected, Keith had a strong reaction—this time, however, he wasn’t angry.

 

“Beautiful songs pull fish from the sea, not sailors,” Keith said, almost sadly. He shook his head as if to clear it of thoughts. “And I’ve been to Ancu. There weren’t any sirens.”

 

“You’ve been to Ancu?” Shiro asked in shock. Keith had _remembered_ something.

 

Keith looked shocked himself. “I...maybe?” he said, confused.

 

Ancu was a journey of several months to the north—Keith was a very long way from home if he’d come from there. The boy looked troubled. Shiro closed the book and set it aside.

 

“Hey, don’t worry about it. If you remember more later, that will be wonderful, but you don’t need to force yourself, okay?” he said gently. “All I want is to find the place you belong, and you can stay here for as long as that takes—even if you never remember. I promise.”

 

Keith looked at him with shy gratitude and nodded. “You’re so _nice_ ,” he said in awe.

 

Shiro blushed and chuckled. “Well, maybe. Lance won’t think I’m nice if I don’t get back to my letters soon, though. Want to come with me?”

 

Keith hopped up eagerly, excited to follow Shiro back to his study. Lance had impressed upon Keith the idea that his study was a _very_ important room, thereby securing an unwitting ally in his war on Shiro’s stack of neglected work.

 

(Damn Lance to hell.)

 

Shiro set Keith up at a side table with a pencil and paper (he did not yet trust the eager but clumsy boy with ink) and smiled as Keith contentedly practiced A’s. He was so beautiful. Hair pulled back in the usual braid, curled to the side around his shoulder, exposing a delicious expanse of white neck that gleamed up at him... Shiro blushed and looked away.

 

He sat down at this own desk and sorted through his papers, reading none. Ancu Islands, huh? Maybe he should send a message of some kind the next time a merchant ship headed north. Would that even be the right thing to do? Keith look worried every time Shiro brought up his past home. Maybe he should let Keith go at his own pace. He could still offer, though.

 

“This is what a mermaid looks like,” Keith announced, holding up his piece of paper. “I-if they were real. They would like this.”

 

Huh. Not practicing A’s after all.

 

“That’s really good, Keith,” he said enthusiastically. (It wasn’t.) “Much better than I could do!” (It was.) He was still singing the picture’s praises to a bashful and proud Keith when Lance walked in.

 

The barest glance between the picture, Shiro’s close hovering, and Keith’s excited face rendered the valet almost helpless with the suppressed desire to tease, and he turned burning eyes on Shiro, who flushed in embarrassment.

 

“Did you need something, Lance?” he asked, clearing his throat.

 

Lance shook his head as if to say I-can’t-believe-this-shit and then explained he needed to get the prince’s approval on some last minute purchases prior to their guests’ arrival. Keith looked on with far more interest than the situation warranted, but then he was excited about _everything_ involving the upcoming visit (which is to say, he had the opposite reaction as Lance and Shiro). It was Lance’s fault—he’d said there might be dancing.

 

“Anyway,” Lance concluded, “that covers it. Oh, and I just checked the wine cellar. We have Adam’s favorite white. Do you want me to make sure we _do_ or _don’t_ serve it?”

 

“Who is Adam?” Keith asked.

 

Time stopped. Lance’s eyes met Shiro’s and neither of them breathed. A silent battle played out, each begging the other to say something, _anything_. Lance caved first.

 

“He’s, uh, an officer in the navy, and he’s doing an inspection of the largest port towns,” Lance said awkwardly. “More importantly, though, he’s uh...he and Shiro used to...they, uh. Well, they were _good_ _friends_.”

 

Keith’s face brightened. “Oh. That sounds nice.”

 

Shiro longed for the sweet release of death.

 

“Um, well, yes. And they were more than just friends. They dated,” Lance supplied, heroically continuing to be both vague and helpful.

 

“What’s ‘dated’?” Keith asked, confused.

 

“It means they were boyfriends.”

 

Keith’s face remained blank.

 

“They were lovers.”

 

Keith blinked twice. “Oh. Can men have sex with each other?”

 

Lance started coughing so hard, Shiro wondered if he actually wasn’t faking it. Either way, he envied the man for having a reason not to answer, and Keith’s questioning look now turned on him.

 

It was possible that someone in the history of mankind had blushed harder than Shiro was at that moment, but it seemed unlikely. “Yes” was all he could manage.

 

Keith took the information thoughtfully. Shiro’s stomach sloshed dangerously as he waited for the inevitable follow-up question, but thank god, the boy shrugged the revelation away.

 

“Well, people have lots of sex all the time, don’t they? That makes sense,” he said to himself. “And they fall in love sometimes, too. With other men?” he added, looking at Shiro again, who nodded faintly. “You must be looking forward to seeing him again, if he’s your lover,” he said reasonably. “That will be nice.”

 

“No, no, no,” Lance and Shiro cried in unison, startling Keith.

 

“They aren’t like that anymore,” Lance stressed. “That is all _very_ finished.”

 

“Yes,” Shiro nodded fervently. “We broke up a long time ago. It was, uh, mostly amicable, but yeah. Definitely done.”

 

“So,” Keith said slowly, “it _won’t_ be nice?”

 

Shiro pleaded silently with Lance.

 

“It will be _weird_ ,” Lance clarified. “They haven’t seen each other since before Shiro’s accident and there’s a lot that’s happened since then, and yeah. It’ll be weird.”

 

Keith frowned. “Okay,” he said. “Well, I’m going to go swimming.” He pulled out his watch and counted out the math in his head. “I will be back in 3 hours and 20 minutes,” he concluded. “Enjoy your day.”

 

And he left.

 

The room was utterly silent.

 

“I have never in my entire life seen someone dodge a bullet by so small a margin,” Lance said at last. “I would have bet my grandmother’s soul he would ask you how sex works.”

 

Shiro shuddered and slumped forward on his desk. “The nearest liquor. Pour it,” he commanded wearily.

 

Lance did as he was bid, naturally pouring himself a glass as well. They slammed back their shots and stared at each other.

 

“Well, that answers if he’s gay,” Shiro said, almost but not quite bitter.

 

“Does it though? Because he still stares at you like you’re the moon and he’s the tide.”

 

“He…,” Shiro hesitated. “He loves me, I think, but I don’t think it’s _that_ way, and...I think he’d let me do whatever I asked, even if he didn’t _want_ it. That’s not something I could stomach. I just…well, I can’t act on this.”

 

Lance frowned thoughtfully. “Maybe he doesn’t think about sex at all? That doesn’t mean you two can’t have some kind of relationship. If nothing else I bet he’d cuddle the hell out of you.”

 

(Goddamn it, why did even _that_ make him blush?)

 

Lance sighed. “Look, I get what you’re saying. He’s painfully naive and probably more innocent than a toddler, but—and I hate to say this—he’s also a good-looking guy, and he’s definitely old enough to have sex. If you don’t go for him, someone else will.”

 

 _That_ didn’t sit well.

 

“At least you would respect his limits,” Lance pointed out.

 

“It still feels like I’d be taking advantage of him,” Shiro sighed. “He trusts me, and he relies on me for everything. There’s no way he’ll say no to me, no matter what it is he actually wants, from a relationship or anything else.”

 

Lance shrugged. “But now you’re not giving him the option to say ‘yes’, either. Well, it’s your choice, of course, but think about it, yeah?” He paused at the door. “He wants you to be happy, Shiro. _That’s_ what he wants. Everything else is details.”

 

Wow.

 

“Hey Lance,” Shiro called after him. “Would it be too weird if I remembered and served Adam’s wine, or would it be too petty to ‘forget’?”

 

“It would be weird for you to be petty, but it would also be hilarious,” Lance said.

 

Shiro grinned. “Go on and treat yourself, then. You’ve earned it.”

 

Lance winked and walked away whistling.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

Keith had not gone swimming. He had instead carefully snuck to his room and buried his face in his pillow, knowing he was about to cry but completely at a loss as to why.

 

There was the frustration that he’d almost given himself away again— _twice_. He never should have memorized the human names for islands! Careless, careless mistake. And he knew _mers_ fell in love and had sex as two men or two women, but he hadn’t known if humans did.

 

(Did…did that mean Shiro might fall in love with him? Technically yes, but that was silly.)

 

Heat rose to his cheeks and his heart pounded. The tears came now, thick torrents that made him shake and gasp. _Why_. Why did it bother him? Why did it hurt? Humans took many lovers. It was no surprise at all that Shiro’d had one. It would have been surprising if he _hadn’t_. He knew he loved Shiro—who wouldn’t?—but that shouldn’t make him jealous, especially not of something from the past. But wait! Almighty Neptune, it must be something to do with being human.

 

That…that helped. The tears still came, but they lessened in intensity and he stopped shaking. Humans fell in love and had sex _all the time_. It was absurd. Mers fell in love, of course, but it was a slow thing and they did not have sex unless they were already in love. Humans, on the other hand, could hardly get enough and had sex with or without being in love. It was a disconnect he couldn’t fathom. A difference in anatomical structure, perhaps.

 

Or, he reflected, since humans lived such short lives, perhaps it was a biological urge intended to increase reproduction before the loss of fertility. He had all but stopped crying now, his focus shifting to a more intellectual approach, and he sat back up. He considered the ramifications of being in a human body for longer than his original intention (a few days). He was going to want to have sex eventually, wasn’t he.

 

Fuck.

 

It was a human need, apparently, but he didn’t _want_ to want to have sex. There were a lot of potential ramifications. What if he got someone pregnant? What if they fell in love with him? What if…he had sex with Shiro?

 

Keith shivered. The heat in his cheeks was mirrored now by a heat in his groin. How did male humans have sex with each other anyway? It worked pretty much the same as mers, didn’t it? Only, humans didn’t have the slit that mers had, so…maybe they just touched each other and left it at that? It still sounded…nice.

 

Keith imagined what it would be like for Shiro to touch him. He would be gentle, but he would explore him with a practiced ease, playing over him like the music he pulled from the flute. Keith remembered the feeling of Shiro’s hand in his hair. He would stroke down from there, moving along his neck, down his chest…

 

Unconsciously, Keith mimicked the imagined path of Shiro’s hand. A thumb brushed over a nipple and he gasped, surprised at the tiny jolt of pleasure. As a freshly matured mer, Keith had been curious enough to give his genitals an exploratory “go”. He’d finished, but it wasn’t particularly interesting or satisfying.

 

It was not this.

 

After only a single moment of indecision, Keith removed his clothes. Shiro’s thumb would rub him like this—play in little circles and yes Keith would do this to him, too. That broad chest he had longed only to lay his head on before—he would stroke it, maybe kiss his nipple if it peaked liked Keith’s. Oh god if Shiro kissed _his_ nipple...

 

A quiet whimper escaped Keith’s lips. Embarrassed, he covered his mouth with one hand—and did not stop the work of the other. His groin was aching. Would Shiro touch him there, too?

 

His hand slid lower. Oh _god_ it felt good to touch there. He clasped himself and pumped his wrist slowly. How would Shiro do this? Slow maybe, and firm. Shiro would know just how to touch him. It was a little too dry, Keith thought, doing this on land, and apparently human genitals did not produce much slick (only a tiny bead had worked its way from his cock), but it was still _so good_. He swiped his thumb over his head to spread the slick and fuck—! He did it again as he pumped faster, catching his head and whimpering louder.

 

Shiro would do this for him, wouldn’t he? And Hero’s hand would be bigger, hold him firmer and pump him like that and Keith would kiss his chest and pull him closer and touch him there too and god Hero Hero Hero—

 

Keith gasped as he came, hunching over as he fucked his fist, trembling. He fell on his side and slowly pumped himself until he stopped shaking, murmuring Hero’s name into his pillow all the while.

 

He was surprised to find tears in his eyes when he came back to himself. He wasn’t sad.

 

(Maybe a little lonely.)

 

Hero wasn’t there. Hero hadn’t done of that. Keith had done it to himself—and Shiro had done it to Adam. Was that why there were tears? Is that why his heart had hurt in the first place?

 

Keith was right. He did not _want_ to want this, but he did still want it. He wanted it with Shiro, and he wanted Shiro to want it with him. It was not a happy thought, but Keith decided he didn’t mind it too much. It soothed his fear of how he would handle sex while on the shore. He would have it with himself, and he would have it while thinking of Shiro.

 

He looked at the mess in his hand.

 

And next time, he would have it with something nearby to help him clean up!

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now taking all bets: what would Shiro do if he knew Keith just dashed out to have a jealous wank in his honor? 1) Implode 2) Join him 3) Whine to Lance and ask if he thinks Keith like likes him
> 
> (By the way, Keith’s tears after masturbating were not from sadness—he just had an intense time. He is, however, sad about the existence of Adam, poor kid.)
> 
> Pidge would be royally pissed if she knew that Lance thought she looked like a pile of seaweed. Her hair is long and it was doing atrocious things, though. And she was sunk down in the water. ….she would punch him.
> 
> We don’t know the full name of Adam in canon, just that his initial is “W”. That autocompletes to “Adam West” in my mind and I just. Can’t. Shake it. So…a dumb joke for myself I guess? >_< In place of a canon answer, he’s Adam West. 
> 
> I want to do a giant shout out to nutella0mutt for somehow making me think of a way to include Keith’s scar after all—he has it in mer!form just not human!form. YAY. 
> 
> Sadly, this might be the only time we see Hunk. What I *might* do is have a collection of snippets at the end…all the scenes that sounded cute/fun/funny that I couldn’t fit in. We’ll see. 
> 
> I promise a lot of things. .__.
> 
> An example of a fluff scene I didn’t have room for: Shiro asks Lance to frame Keith’s picture. Lance dies a little. The picture stays on Shiro’s desk and Keith is proud and draws a lot more. Lance puts his foot down on framing all of them, so Shiro quietly puts them all up in his wardrobe. One day, while searching for a particular vest to get cleaned for Shiro, Lance finds his stash of Keith drawings. Wtf, Shiro. He notices one labeled “Lonce” in very messy handwriting (worse even than Shiro’s). He steals it for his own room.
> 
> We get to meet Adam next chapter! I am……….worried about it. I am shocked by the number of people who thought he and Shiro were getting back together and uh….well, I’m now a bit scared of writing him, I guess??? He’s going to be difficult for me to handle. >_<
> 
> Small warning: not as much fluff for a little while. There will still be fluff!!! Just, not as much. Adam = angst for Keith, after all. And Shiro needs to get some closure. Also, my outline isn't very complete for the next little while, so there may be a bit of space between this chapter and the next one. Also, I estimated 13 chapters, which would makes us half one. HAH. Definite not half done.
> 
> I now have 300+ followers on tumblr!!! I’m possibly going to do another smut prompt giveaway, but I don’t want to slow down my updates *too* much, so maybe I’ll make it a limit of 1k words or something. Make an actual drabble, ya know? 
> 
> I fucking love you guys so much. >_< Even thought I’m hella slow on my replies sometimes. And I’ve been posting a few mer fic lore things on tumblr, just in case that interests you. ^_^


	8. Dinglehoppers don't require table manners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Pidge meets Red, Adam arrives, and Keith has very bad manners.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Little islands are all large prisons; one cannot look at the sea without wishing for the wings of a swallow.”  
> ― Richard Francis Burton
> 
>  
> 
> “It is better to lock up your heart with a merciless padlock, than to fall in love with someone who doesn't know what they mean to you.”  
> ― Michael Bassey Johnson
> 
>  
> 
> “The sea, the snotgreen sea, the scrotumtightening sea.”  
> ― James Joyce

 The winds were bad, so it took Adam four days to arrive.  This was excellent, as Shiro definitely needed the extra time to stew himself up into an Anxious Vortex of Nerves, or at least that was how Lance described him the morning Adam’s ship was sighted in the distance.

 

“Look at it this way,” Lance said, “it’s only for a few days, and Keith will have a great time!  Won’t you, Pu—uh, Keith?”

 

Keith nodded, eyes particularly wide with fascination at the current proceedings (a fitting with the tailor for last-minute adjustments).  He had crowded as close as the tailor would let him, repeating each measurement for Shiro’s sleeve multiple times under his breath.

 

“Yes, I will have an excellent time with the politics and the gossips and the rumor-mongers,” Keith said seriously, having definitely overheard those words from someone (quite possibly Lance).  

 

“See?  That’s the spirit!” Lance grinned.  “But actually, I don’t think you’re going to have much fun with the sailors and Lord West’s men, so maybe we should find something else for you to do during the day.  I bet the clockworker would love to show you a thing or two,” Lance offered.

 

Keith frowned.  “But Shiro won’t be there,” he pointed out.

 

Shiro shifted as the tailor directed him to move his arm again and tried not to sigh.  So this was Lance’s fool-proof plan? The valet had wisely recommended to Shiro that they find “alternative activities” for Keith as he would likely make official proceedings awkward (and, more importantly, take longer).  The faster Adam completed his inspection, the sooner they would be free of his presence--which was not a hospitable approach, but then Shiro wasn’t feeling much like hosting. Unfortunately, Lance had hyped up the affair to Keith in order to keep Shiro on track for preparations, which now meant Keith was heavily determined to watch everything.

 

“No, but I’ll be very busy, and it won’t be much fun, I promise,” Shiro said coaxingly.  “It definitely won’t be as much fun as the clock shop.”

 

Keith frowned deeper and actually folded his arms as he looked away.  “If you don't want me there, you can just say so,” he said.

 

Fuck.

 

Shiro glared at Lance who immediately attempted to placate Keith.

 

“It’s not that,” Lance hurriedly assured him, “but you really—”

 

“I don’t want you there,” Shiro interrupted, “but it’s not because I don’t like you.”

 

Keith didn’t stop frowning, but the tension in his posture lessened and he waited, listening.

 

“Seeing Adam again is going to be hard for me, and even if it wasn’t _him_ coming, I’d still be anxious because this is the first time since my accident I’m going to do anything ‘official’.  It’s going to be tough, and I think it will be easier with fewer people around--even the people I like. Does that make sense?”

 

Keith nodded, perhaps a little sad but mostly satisfied with the answer.  “Okay,” he said. “What can I do to help you best? Do you not want me to go swimming?”

 

Shiro could have kissed him, because yes—yes it made him anxious when Keith went swimming and having him on shore would be blessing.  Still, he trusted Keith, and he knew the boy was already disappointed he wouldn’t get to be involved with the port inspection.

 

“I’ll feel best if I know you’re not bored or lonely, so it’s alright if you want to go swimming--just make sure you tell Lance where you’ve gone and when you’ll be back,” Shiro said.  “You could take Red for a ride too, if you like, but don’t go too far from the castle, okay?”

 

Keith gasped with audible delight.  “I can ride Red? By _myself_?”

 

“I don’t see why not.  You’ve got a natural talent for horsemanship and Red definitely likes you,” Shiro smiled.  

 

And that put Keith in a fantastic mood—minor disaster averted.  He now took up an immense interest in Shiro’s new glove, asking the ever-patient tailor numerous questions about sizing and construction.  

 

At last finished with the prince’s adjustments, the tailor turned to Keith.

 

“Oh!  You have to go now,” Keith said, whirling on Shiro and pushing him toward the door.  “Mine is a surprise! Lance McClain said so!”

 

“So I am to be shooed out of my own quarters?” Shiro asked in amusement.  Before worry could flood the boy’s face, Shiro affectionately rustled his hair.  “I’ll look forward to the surprise.”

 

Shiro and Lance left the tailor in Keith’s eager care and walked to Shiro’s study.

 

“So, I am to be surprised, am I?” Shiro asked, failing to press back a smile as he looked at Lance meaningfully.

 

Lance shrugged.  “Maybe? I thought he might like to wear something other than my clothes, but since you’d be smitten even if he was in a potato sack, I don’t think it’ll matter much.  Still, _he’s_ excited and that’s the main thing.”

 

Shiro covered his mouth with his hand to hide his widening smile.  “You’re spoiling him.”

 

Lance shrugged again.  “He’s good for you. That’s reason enough for me to like him.  Plus, he’s making you _hilarious_.”

 

“And he’ll wear his own clothes instead of yours?” Shiro asked.

 

“And he’ll wear his own clothes instead of mine,” Lance agreed as he opened the door to Shiro’s study and let the prince pass in.  He closed the door carefully, and something about that caught Shiro’s attention. He looked back at the valet, who had an almost guilty expression.

 

“Listen,” Lance said, clearing his throat and shuffling his feet.  “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Puppy, er, Keith. I’ve been thinking...it might be a good idea if he doesn’t come to meals either, not just the official meetings and all that.  He’s,” Lance hesitated, “he’s a little slow, but he’s sensitive. He might not pick up on the particulars, but he’ll know if people don’t...like him.”

 

The temperature in the room dropped and Shiro involuntary clenched his jaw.

 

“You think he’s stupid,” he said, voice dark and clipped off.

 

“He’s not _stupid_ ,” Lance offered weakly.  “He’s--”

 

“Of course he isn’t stupid,” Shiro snapped.  “Do you think _I’m_ stupid because I don’t remember I all of the things I’m supposed to?”

 

Lance looked away for a moment, gathering his thoughts, before looking back, his eyes sad.  “I think you’re hurt, Shiro. I think you’re angry and you might lash out, and I think if you lose your temper, Keith will end up as collateral damage.”

 

Shiro softened.  Encouraged, Lance continued.

 

“You care about him a lot, and it’s obvious.  There’s nothing wrong with that, but these are Adam’s men coming.  I’m not saying he is going to judge you or Keith or even say anything, but his men are going to be _loyal_ to him, you understand?” Lance said carefully.

 

Shiro sighed and let his frustration ease out of him.  He nodded.

 

“I might not like Adam much anymore, but I know he’s still a good man,” Lance added.  “I could be worrying about nothing, just...just keep it in mind.”

 

Shiro rubbed his temple and agreed.  It was good advice, even if he didn’t want to hear it.  “God, if they’re going to think all of that about Keith, what will think of me?” he asked ruefully.

 

Lance brightened and smiled mischievously.  “Doesn’t everyone in the capital already think you’re doing terrible?  The worst thing that happens is you prove them right. You’ve got nowhere to go but up.”

 

“Wow, you’re fountain of encouragement today, aren’t you?” Shiro said.

 

He was grinning anyway.

 

~*~*~

 

Because Red was an angel in horse form, the spirited mare happily trotted through the forest to a low hill that gently sloped to a secluded beach, and she was only mildly surprised by Keith’s screech-whistle and Pidge’s subsequent appearance a short while later.  Beast and mermaid were equally curious about each other and—with the aid of an apple Keith had brought—Red was convinced to wade into the calm water for a closer look.

 

“She’s perfect,” Pidge gushed.  

 

(Keith had never been prouder to call her his friend.)

 

“I would die for her,” Keith said solemnly.

 

“I would kill you for her,” Pidge said, not to be outdone (though going a bit far in Keith’s opinion).

 

They discussed horses (of which there was a lot to say) and mer news (of which there was very little) before Pidge pointed out that Keith had been at the beach for a while now and didn’t the humans get worried about that sort of thing?

 

“Not today,” he said, not exactly pouting but also not exactly happy.  “There’s officials from the king or the capital or something that arrived in the harbor early this morning, so I’m staying out of the way for now.  I can stay all day if you like.”

 

Pidge was pleased by that and, if Keith was being very honest, he was, too.  Despite mers being solitary creatures, he and Pidge were quite close and frequently spent entire days exploring or hunting or simply being near each other as they did whatever little tasks they felt like.  It seemed like ages since they’d been able to hang out, and when he said this to Pidge she agreed readily.

 

“I hate to say it, but I’ve missed your dumb face,” she said, which was a fairly big compliment coming from her.  She paused a moment. “How much longer do you think you’ll stay up there? Is he doing better yet?”

 

“He is some better,” Keith said, chewing his lip, “but Lance McClain thinks seeing Adam might make him worse.”  He paused again. “Adam is his former lover.”

 

Pidge gave him a searching look.  “What does that mean for humans?” There was an unspoken addition of What does that mean for you? that Keith ignored for the moment.

 

“I don’t really know,” Keith sighed, flopping on his back to contemplate the sky as he floated.  Pidge promptly dunked him in the water.

 

“It’s bad enough knowing your bits are bouncing about, but do you have to show them?!  Stop floating on your back!” she demanded.

 

“Human anatomy is what it is,” Keith protested, “and I’m not getting my clothes wet, so unless you want to sit on the sand, you’ll have to deal my bits!”

 

Pidge groaned dramatically and Keith splashed her, resulting in a momentary tussle in the shallows.  Red had wandered to the shore and munched on seagrass, snorting at their antics.

 

“Anyway,” Pidge said, pushing her tangled hair out of her face with great dignity, “back to the topic of Adam.”

 

“I don’t know,” Keith said, throwing up his hands in frustration.  “I don’t know how humans act with lovers! They made it seem like it will be uncomfortable, but not actually _bad_.”

 

“So, they won’t attack each other,” Pidge guessed.  “And they also won’t...mate?”

 

Keith shook his head.  “I don’t think so. Lance McClain was clear that they were ‘over’.  I think they’ll be a bit sad, maybe? Because they used to love each other?”  Keith shivered. “That sounds terrifying. Being in love and then not being in love.  I don’t understand how humans survive, doing that multiple times. I heard one girl saying another girl fell in love ‘once a month’.”

 

“Humans are frighteningly strong with some things,” Pidge said solemnly.  She gave Keith another searching look. “You’re human right now. What if _you_ fall in love?”

 

“I’m a little worried about that,” Keith admitted.  “I already want to have sex.”

 

“Ew,” Pidge said, wrinkling her nose.  “With a _human_?”

 

“Yeah,” Keith blushed.

 

“With all humans?” Pidge persisted.

 

“No, just Shiro,” Keith said.  It was awkward to say it out loud, but if he couldn’t tell Pidge, who could he tell?  Maybe Red.

 

“Wait, just _one_ person?  Then how do you know you’re not in love?” Pidge demanded.

 

“Because I’m human right now,” Keith said crossly.  “Humans fall in love constantly, so even _if_ I am, it will go away.”

 

Pidge looked unconvinced, but thankfully she dropped the subject.  “Okay, whatever you say. Now: I need arm measurements. Do you have them?”

 

Thanks to the fortuitous timing of the tailor, Keith did indeed have measurements.  Once left alone with the tailor, the man commented that Keith had been far more interested in the prince’s measurements than his own and, when Keith explained it was because he was trying make a present for Shiro, the tailor had been kind enough to help Keith further and provided him with appropriately lengthed string at the boy’s request.  Keith handed these over to Pidge. Keith’s stomach then took the opportunity to grumble loudly and Pidge raised an eyebrow at him.

 

“Why are you hungry?  Aren’t they feeding you?”

 

“Humans have to eat _every day_ ,” he informed her, and they both shook their heads at the amazing frailty of humans.  

 

Pidge offered to go catch him something and he reluctantly declined—Red might be getting hungry, too, and as much as she loved grazing, she probably wanted her stable food as well.  Not one to deny Red anything, Pidge wished them farewell and slipped off to her forge, measurements in hand.

 

Keith mounted Red and directed her toward the castle, wondering how he would know if he was in love anyway.

 

~*~*~

 

Shiro couldn’t blame the ocean for how nauseous he felt.  

 

He sort of wanted to anyway.

 

What even was there to be nervous about?  Lance was right—the worst thing that happened is that he confirmed their belief that he was sick and, let’s face it, he _was_.  And after all this time, did he really care what Adam thought about him?  Did he really care that Adam had been right? Did he really care if maybe Adam regretted the way they ended, or if he had maybe wanted to get back together, or if he was angry that Shiro never wrote him back, or if—damn it, okay, fine, he cared.  He cared what Adam thought because even if Shiro was still hurt, he’d loved Adam for years and none of this should have happened. They weren’t supposed to end.

 

(They were supposed to grow old together.)

 

Shiro really was glad it was over, though, but somehow it still hurt.

 

“You don’t have to be here, you know,” Lance said quietly.  “No one is going to force you to be this close to the water.”

 

They were waiting above the docks, sitting on horseback as the various officers debarked from _The Wind Fury_ , Adam’s ship.

 

“It’s fine,” Shiro lied.  

 

And it was, in a way, because it was cathartic to watch Adam’s men stumble down the plank—they still had their sea legs.  Adam himself did somewhat better, but he did sway once and clutched a crate before straightening up and walking down the pier.  He smiled when he caught Shiro’s eye.

 

“Prince Takashi,” he cried.  “I didn’t think to see you at the docks.  You’re looking better than I’d heard.”

 

There might have been a slight flush on Shiro’s cheeks at those words, but if it was from frustration not flattery, no one watching would be any the wiser—excepting, of course, Lance.  

 

“I can’t imagine what reports have made it to the capital, but I trust they were exaggerated,” Shiro said, managing to keep the bitterness from his voice entirely—an impressive feat.  “I may not always fare well, but I am healthy.”

 

Adam’s smile was sincere.  “I’m glad.”

 

Lance hopped from his horse and offered assistance to Adam to mount what would be his horse for the duration of his stay, but the lord waved him away and managed it on his own, settling in the saddle and looking...confident, damn him.

 

The clocktower tolled as the rest of the officers made their way to the horses and carriages intended to take them to the castle.  The lonely chime filled Shiro with an ache. The last time he’d been in town he’d taken Keith to see the clock. It had delighted him and his joy was infectious--even just the memory of it brought a hint of a smile to his face.

 

Maybe he should have brought Keith.  He would have loved to be involved, even if it was just to listen the officers share their stories of the voyage and the weather and he would have been a distracting comfort.  

 

The officers and their wives finally all properly arranged, the entourage headed back toward the castle.  Shiro tried not to let out a gasp of relief as they turned away from the ocean and he resisted the urge to spur his horse onward.  Instead, he focused on his breathing, slow and steady, and tried to remember the song Keith had hummed while braiding his hair.

 

It helped.

 

(A little.)

 

In an odd way, it was nice to be nervous about the ocean again instead of Adam or the tiresomeness of the inspection, but that faded immediately when Adam urged his horse to fall in place next to Shiro’s.

 

(Of course.)

 

“Who is that over there?” he asked, pointing to a clearing ahead of them.

 

It was Keith.

 

(Of course.)

 

He was riding Red like it was what he was born to do, his hair escaped from his braid and now devastatingly windswept.  He looked like a fae or some other wild creature and he was laughing as he urged Red to leap over a fallen log, his fluid posture somehow hinting at muscle.  Shiro sucked in his breath.

 

“That would be Keith,” Lance announced, trotting closer.  

 

“Keith who?” Adam asked, and it was a very fair question.  From this distance, Keith looked like he should be a lord’s son—an impression that faded with close proximity—with his excellent horsemanship and good quality clothes, but Arizo was too small an island to be a lord’s property.

 

“Keith nobody,” Lance said.  “He’s a shipwreck victim. He’s staying at the castle for the time being, so you may get to meet him. He can be hard to get ahold of, though.  He’s a bit flighty,” he added, doubtlessly covering his tracks in the event he needed to secret Keith away to prevent any number of troubles.

 

“The castle?” Adam said in surprise.  

 

That was also a fair question because a charity case like Keith should end up at the church, not a guest of the prince (staying in the prince’s old room, no less, but he was keeping that tidbit of gossip to himself).

 

“Kindred sympathy,” Shiro replied, hoping that would end the questions which, thankfully, it did.

 

“Pity about his circumstances,” a nearby officer remarked.

 

From the corner of his eye, Shiro saw Lance’s lips tighten.  He no doubt found it insulting for someone to voice pity for Keith directly in front of their prince who was in an almost identical situation.  It was comforting—having someone upset on his behalf.

 

Keith and Red disappeared back into the forest, no doubt taking a shortcut.  

 

“A pity indeed,” the officer’s wife added. “He’s a quite a handsome young man.”

 

And that made _Shiro’s_ lips tighten, Lance’s earlier warning immediately brought to mind.

 

_“He’s a good-looking guy…. If you don’t go for him, someone else will.”_

 

Shiro couldn’t help but notice that Adam’s eyes had tracked Keith’s path and his gut clenched uselessly.  He shook his head. What did it matter anyway? Keith wasn’t interested in sex. He shoved down thoughts of jealousy and turned his attention back to making polite conversation.

 

It didn’t matter anyway.

 

~*~*~

 

It had been less than a week but Keith was already a master at sex, he decided happily.  Human genitals were fun and easy to use. He could now go fast or slow and use one or both hands.  He knew which of the squishy bits he should touch at the start and when to start touching the other ones.  He knew to play with the balls, too. For pure recreation, it was gratifying information but, more importantly, he was determined to be an expert should he have a chance to have sex with Shiro.

 

(He could imagine no circumstance under which that might occur—and he had imagined a lot of circumstances—but it was important to be prepared.)

 

(Just in case.)  

 

So, Keith added sex to the things he practiced everyday, and he decided he could get in another quick practice session before lunch.

 

(He could.)

 

Afterward, he headed down to the kitchens to see if he could help Hunk with cooking.  It might have been silly, but if he couldn’t eat _with_ Shiro, it would still be nice to somehow be involved with the meal.

 

And so he sauntered into the hall and down the stairs, humming happily to himself, and around the corner came Shiro and a flood of guests.

 

~*~*~

 

Lance could not have planned the scandal better.  Puppy’s face was still flushed and his hair still tousled from the wind (making it look like he had been recently involved in...other activities), his top button was undone (revealing sweat-heavy collarbones, further suggesting “activities”) and his face practically ignited with joy when his eyes fell on Shiro.

 

“Shiro!” he cried happily, using not a single title to address the prince, waving and bounding forward without so much as deferential bow to mark the presence of royalty.  

 

The crowd gasped almost as one at the unprecedented display of familiarity.  Lance’s eyes watered on choked back laughter. Shiro blushed crimson.

 

“H-hello, Keith,” he stammered, perhaps at the sight of his object of affection, perhaps at the realization of how impudent Keith must appear (Lance would guess the former).  “Did you have a nice ride?”

 

“Yes!  And now I’m going to help Hunk with lunch and dinner,” he beamed.  He pulled out his watch. “For two hours and 41 minutes, and then I’m going to work on my letters.  Is that okay?”

 

“Absolutely,” Shiro swallowed, eyes trained on Keith’s open collar.  “I hope you have a pleasant afternoon.”

 

“I _will_ ,” Keith promised.  He smiled at the rest of the crowd.  “Hello, Shiro’s friends,” he waved, and then he skipped off toward the kitchen.

 

The guests erupted the moment Puppy was out of sight, one half horrified by his impertinence and the other defending his “innocent charm”.  The consensus was rapidly reached that he was a “sweet thing” who didn’t know better and was “quite handsome” and that Shiro was infinitely generous to take him in (but that he perhaps should learn some manners).  The ladies in particular were enraptured by their (tiny) encounter and insisted the boy be invited to supper. Shiro looked at Lance in dismay, uncertain how to save himself and, more importantly, Keith from their rabid interest.

 

Lance coughed politely and informed the crowd that Keith was actually quite shy and easily intimidated, but he would pass along their good wishes, cautioning them not to get their hopes up—Keith likely would not wish to attend.

 

~*~*~

 

Keith wished to attend.

 

(Of course he did, the little bastard.)

 

Lance wouldn’t have invited him in the first place but one of the officers and his wife happened to be in the hall when Lance encountered Puppy and he had completely blanked on an excuse not to offer the invitation, and so the valet cleaned up the poor kid properly and sent him to his merry death, silent apologies cast to Shiro and the heavens all the while.

 

~*~*~

 

It was extremely confusing to Keith that Lance McClain was not “attending” dinner.  He was, it seemed, part of the “servant class” and so it “would not be proper”. Keith could think of nothing more proper than sharing a meal with a friend, and when he explained this to the woman seated next to him, she patted his hand and told him he was “a pure soul”.  

 

The entire dinner was confusing.  He was told he was eating wrong (something about which hand he should use to hold his fork) and when he pointed out it was what Shiro was doing, there was a gasp from his neighbor who shushed him and told him “that was very rude” and allowances were made when someone only had one hand.  Not only did he use the wrong hand, but he apparently used the wrong fork because, for whatever reason, fancy humans needed a variety of forks and spoons and were very particular about the order. It made him nervous. Maybe he wasn’t doing a good job as a pretend human after all—he knew _none_ of these things and what’s more, everyone else did.  

 

Keith sent several longing glances down the table to where Shiro was sitting.  It had never occurred to him he wouldn’t sit next to the prince. The seating arrangement was incredibly mystifying overall—wives were not supposed to sit next husbands?  Why wouldn’t you sit next to your lover? When Keith asked, he was told again he was a pure soul, which he was beginning to suspect was not a compliment.

 

“It keeps the conversation more interesting,” one woman explained.  

 

(Keith failed to see how.  The conversation would be far better if he were talking to Shiro, but he kept that to himself.)

 

Less confusing and more alarming was the conversation itself.  Everyone near him was horrifyingly curious about him. While Shiro had immediately relented and given him space, the fancy people only pressed harder, painfully determined to “help him” remember.  Keith, of course, had nothing to remember, and he would surely give himself away if he made something up, so he desperately turned the conversation back on his neighbors, telling them he was quite boring and would much rather hear about them.  This flattered them, and saved him from several questions, but by the next course they were back at him. Blocked in as he was, Keith had not been able to determine which person was Adam and, having learned nothing of value while being both interrogated and deprived of Shiro, Keith was utterly miserable by dessert.  That misery, however was nothing compared to what was about to unfold.

 

A mere 12 minutes later, Shiro concluded the meal and regretfully informed his guests that he was quite tired and would be unable to continue his duties as host but urged them to socialize amongst themselves and enjoy the rest of the evening together.  He bid them goodnight and stated he was retiring to bed.

 

Keith sprang up from his chair and eagerly began to follow Shiro.  But something was wrong. Why did the guests suddenly start murmuring about “impropriety” and “directly in front of Lord West!” and “well, he _is_ quite handsome”?  Why was Shiro’s jaw suddenly clenching and his hand curling into a tight fist?

 

“I assure there is nothing of the sort occurring between Keith and myself,” Shiro said hotly.  “I treat him as a brother and no more.”

 

And that painful sentence, sharp and twisting and shameful, was the exact moment Keith realized he was in love.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys. I can’t stop finding amazing fish quotes. Some of them are Deep and Meaningful and fit *perfectly* and some are derp and hilarious. I’m going to start posting multiple quotes because I can’t choose. 
> 
>  
> 
> It took less than 12 hours for Keith to ruin any hope of maintaining an Innocent Appearance for his relationship with Shiro. It doesn’t really matter. No one expects Shiro to be a ruler or have a “good marriage” (politically speaking)anymore but it’s a bit much for him to be having a fling with this nameless, crazy kid. TOO BAD because that’s the power of True Love. And who among isn’t a bit crazy when in love, hmm? Btw, Shiro doesn’t give a damn about his reputation about this point, but he didn’t want people to say bad things about Keith. 
> 
>  
> 
> Who likes that this time it’s Shiro saying the brother line?! Hurts, doesn’t it Keith?! Jeebus krystals. These boys. Smh. They need to get together in canon, guys. It’s so important to me. ;^; Or at *least* not get blatantly shot down. So help me, if they pair Keith with Axca...I will still love and support the show and respect the time and effort spent to create it. 
> 
>  
> 
> (But also wtf.)
> 
>  
> 
> I took the easy way out and wrote Adam kind of bland, lol. We don’t see enough of him in the show to know what sort of person he is (beyond a good pilot and frustrated in his relationship). It’s safe to say he’s an idiot, though, because who would dump Shiro’s fine ass? Lol. I really don’t think he’s a bad person. Long distance relationships are HELL to be in, and having your partner choose to be gone--especially with their health on the line!--would be awful. He didn’t end it well, but there’s nothing wrong with protecting yourself from further hurt. So, I don’t hate Adam. But uh...the people who thought he was getting together with Shiro were so, so stupid. He’d spent years thinking Shiro was dead! The man moved on. Probably grieved and needed counseling, but he moved on. And Shiro didn’t send him a message when Sam went back to Earth! He was done, too. Also, Keef. :3 He had a Keef. 
> 
>  
> 
> Feel free to ask me more mer questions if you want. ^_^ It’s a fun exercise. 
> 
>  
> 
> Next chapter is darker but contains Progress. It will end with a funny scene though, I promise. And then we’ll FINALLY make real progress in the *next* chapter. Is that smut I see on the horizon?? Depending on chapter length, it will be here in two or three chapters. YAY. 
> 
>  
> 
> ….I have like three possible endings I’m still considering. Which is good ‘cause I’ve narrowed it down but… Yeah. I’ve discarded the angstier options. 
> 
>  
> 
> Annnnd I’ve decided I will do a smut prompt giveaway. Since I have a few followers who can’t access tumblr, I’m going to let people’s comments on here count as well. Honor system that you don’t comment on tumblr *and* here. I’ll do a random number drawing and pick three winners. You get two points for commenting here (since you get two options on tumblr) and one point for commenting and one point for reblogging on tumblr. Blah blah blah. Basic rules. Your choice of pairing and kink/scenario! Under 1k words! Hopefully!
> 
> Love you~~
> 
> PS Anyone catch the title reference for this chapter? XD


	9. And It's Time For Us to Leave Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Shiro gets some closure, Keith has a very unhappy evening, Lance gets a pet name, and the author feels very uncomfortable about the whole thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “There must be something strangely sacred in salt. It is in our tears and in the sea.”  
> ― Kahlil Gibran
> 
> “The fish in the creek said nothing. Fish never do. Few people know what fish think about injustice, or anything else.”  
> ― Ursula K. Le Guin
> 
> “Why does Sea World have a seafood restaurant?? I’m halfway through my fish burger and I realize, Oh my God….I could be eating a slow learner.”  
> ― Lynda Montgomery
> 
> Trigger Warning: Not sure how to tag this exactly, but there is some verbal abuse and a misunderstanding of a possible assault

It wasn’t Shiro’s fault, but it really, _really_ felt like it was.  He should have warned Keith about the rules of society or told him that meals were off limits, too.  And Lance, of course, couldn’t be present to help him out, so it was all on Shiro to dissolve the tension and then he’d fucked it up.

 

What a shock.

 

Lance had warned him about his temper, too.  Damn it. He might have stemmed off one train of gossip— _might_ —but it would definitely lead to another.  Fuck. Maybe he’d been kidding himself, thinking he could protect Keith from cruel speculation.  To top it off, he knew he’d confused Keith because the boy had slunk away immediately after exiting the dining room, leaving Shiro standing like an idiot in the hall.  Keith might not understand the details, but he knew that Shiro was angry and that was clearly enough to upset him, god damn it.

 

Shiro sighed and ran his hand through his hair.  He needed to find Keith to explain himself and apologize, but he should wait until after he calmed down.  He was thoroughly pissed off at the moment and the last thing Keith needed was to see him this way. He focused on his breathing, slow and deep, trying to calm the furious racing of his heart.

 

“Takashi, could we talk in private?”

 

Fuck.

 

Well, why not?  Why not get it over with it?  Adam knew he was upset—he was not an idiot—and if he thought _now_ was the time to talk, then why the hell not?

 

“This way,” Shiro said, jerking his head.  

 

He led them silently to his study, poured them each a glass of wine—because again, why not—and sat down.  Adam accepted the glass and sat across from him, taking a moment to sip his wine and pull his thoughts together.

 

“I appreciate your attempt at discretion, but I want to let you know it isn’t necessary—especially if it jeopardizes your relationship with that boy,” Adam said.

 

What.  The. Fuck.

 

Shiro stared at him, utterly at a loss at how to respond.  Adam knew him well enough to know he was he gone on Keith, but where was he getting the other half of this “relationship” from?  And what was this _generous_ offer to dispel with the “discretion”?  Adam waited patiently for his response and Shiro finally found one.

 

“I know what it looks like, but I meant what I said—we _aren’t_ in _any_ kind of a relationship,” he said with perhaps too much force.

 

Adam frowned.  “Takashi, you were never this dense.  Did you not see how he looked at you when you said you were like brothers?  He was crushed, heartbroken. If you’re not planning to pursue him at least let him down easy.  I can tell already he’s a sweet kid. Don’t be cruel.”

 

“Wow, wow, wow,” Shiro said, shaking his head.  “You— _of all people_ —did not just lecture me on how I treat Keith.”

 

“I know I don’t have the right to lecture _you_ , but I do know what it feels like to look at you the way he does,” Adam shrugged, “and I do know how hard you are to get over.”

 

“Fucking hell, Adam, _you_ dumped _me_ ,” Shiro growled, slamming his glass on the side table.  

 

“No, you _left_ me,” Adam corrected, calmly and without heat, and that was a thousand times worse than arguing.  

 

Too tired to fight, Shiro slumped back in his chair and said nothing.  Adam took another swallow of wine.

 

“This isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.  I actually wanted to apologize,” he said.

 

Shiro raised an eyebrow and stayed silent.  This was another conversation he didn’t want to have, but again, what the hell.

 

“I’m sorry about how we ended.  I think it was the right thing for both of us, but  I am sorry that because we ended, you went through everything alone,” Adam said.

 

“Wow,” Shiro said softly, blinking hard.  Wow. It was a punch to the gut and a balm to a wound in the same breath.  Shiro had never felt abandoned by _Adam_ —their split was, ultimately, a mutual decision and he could hardly expect a former lover to sail the kingdom and nurse him back to health.  But, he had felt abandoned in a general sense. Once he was discovered on Arizo, there was only one person who had come for him.

 

“Thank you.  That means a lot,” he said, “ but I wasn’t alone, though.  I had Lance.”

 

Adam smiled, and it was genuine if a little sad.  “I’m glad.”

 

“And I owe you an apology,” Shiro said.  “I got your letter. I should have written back.  If it means anything, I wasn’t responding to anyone back then.  But… I still should have written something eventually. I’m sorry.”

 

It had been a short letter—just an expression of sadness for Shiro’s injury and a hope for his recovery.  It had felt like ash in his mouth when Shiro read it, but even then he knew it would have been hard for Adam to send it and, as painful as it was, it had still meant a lot to receive.  

 

“It’s alright.  I didn’t know what to say or even if it was appropriate to send.  And now you have Keith,” Adam said softly. “Or you will, if you want him.”

 

“That is not a topic I’m willing to discuss,” Shiro replied dryly.  

 

“Fair enough,” Adam said.  He raised his glass. “A toast: to letting the past go.”

 

“I’ll drink to that,” Shiro said, raising his glass as well, ready to end both the conversation and the previous chapter of his life.  “To letting go.”

 

And, to his surprise, he really did feel like it.

 

~*~*~

 

Keith couldn’t sleep.  He did try to, but one can only re-fluff a pillow so many times before admitting defeat.  Besides, his mind was racing down useless alleys—how could he really be in love if he had only known Shiro for such a short time?  Did the time he had spent watching him count? How could it possibly count and did this mean he was fully human? But how could he be fully human when he could still screech-whistle to Pidge?  What did it mean if he was in love because he would be a mer again soon enough anyway and would he still be in love after transforming or was he stuck like this because fuck fuck fuck it hurt to love Shiro and it really, _really_ hurt to love Shiro and know he didn’t love him back.  He punched his pillow angrily and then smoothed it, apologizing, because the pillow was very innocent and it did a good job of cushioning his ungrateful head every night and now he was feeling sorry for a pillow.  

 

Damn it.  Maybe he should go swimming.

 

No, he determined with a sigh, he couldn’t go swimming without telling Shiro or Lance McClain where he was going, and he didn’t feel up to talking to Shiro and he didn’t know where Lance McClain was.  Perhaps if he wandered the halls he could find him…? It was worth a shot.

 

Keith got out of bed and started down the halls, listening at corners to make sure he didn’t run into any of the fancy humans.  He didn’t understand what had happened earlier, but Shiro had been mad at them because of him, and that frightened him. No wonder Shiro hadn’t wanted to see the fancy humans—they were _awful_.

 

(And hopefully that was not his fault.)

 

He hadn’t made it far when he heard something—music.  It was boisterous and rowdy and reminded Keith of what sailors played while at sea.  Curious, he followed the sound to the outer courtyard. There, flickering light from bonfires danced along with loud and laughing humans, and Keith could see the instruments he’d often heard but never seen.  A drum, he thought, and some kind of flute, and a strange box that was pressed smaller and pulled larger. Fascinated, he crept to the back of the crowd to watch and listen. He recognized a few of the songs, and the melodies were simple, so he hummed along.  It was nowhere as haunting and beautiful as the music Hero played, but it was lively and these humans seemed friendly—better than the fancy ones, that’s for sure. They swayed and staggered as they danced, pacing around bottles and laughing. They stank of alcohol, but they were smiling.  Keith sang a little louder.

 

“Well, hello young lad.  You one of the prince’s men?” a nearby sailor with grizzled hair asked.

 

“I don’t think he has men,” Keith said, confused.  Shiro didn’t own anyone, did he? Keith wasn’t really sure how servants worked.

 

“Oh he _has_ men,” another sailor laughed.  “He had our Lord West for a while, and I heard he’s got a new young thing with black hair.  That’s not you, is it?” He winked and took several long swallows from his bottle, stopping with a satisfied smack of his lips.

 

Keith’s stomach shifted uncomfortably in his gut.  

 

“He said I’m like his brother,” Keith said cautiously.  

 

“Oo-wee!  I caught a peek of him in the hall when I was bringing up trunks and if I ever looked at my brother like _that_ , I’d have to go to confession more often!” whistled one sailor, causing a chorus of laughter and cheering.

 

“As if you ever go confessing in the first place,” someone jeered, sparking more laughter.

 

“He’s just calling you his brother so you don’t run off.   Soft ass like yours? He’s definitely got something he wants to stick in it.  I’d run fast if I were you,” the sailor with the drum said, beating a quick rhythm to imitate running.

 

“What do you mean?” Keith asked.  What would Shiro stick up him? Why would he _want_ to?  And why would he have lied about seeing him as a brother?

 

“Oh leave off, Johnny.  He’s a nice lad just wanting the music.  Don’t go pinching at him,” the first sailor said.  

 

“The boy asked!” the Johnny sailor protested.  

 

“It means he wants to fuck you.  Shove his cock up your bum and make you howl,” the confession sailor said.  He took a swig from his bottle.

 

Several sailors laughed and mimicked howling.  

 

“Th-that’s not how sex works,” Keith protested.  These sailors weren’t friendly after all, and he was beginning to get frightened.  He didn’t understand what they saying, but they were _wrong_.  Shiro didn’t want him like that.  

 

(But what if he did?  And what did it mean to have a soft ass and to make him howl?)

 

“Oh but that’s where you’re wrong, lad!”  the sailor replied. “Sit on your fingers if you’re curious.”

 

Several sailors made gestures with their hands, some miming sitting and then howling while others thrust into their hands.  One stood up and made a move in Keith’s direction, but he staggered and fell instead, much to the delight of the other sailors.

 

“Oi!” the first sailor said sharply.  “Can’t you see you’re scaring him? Don’t worry about them, lad.  They’re like this because the ale’s good and they haven’t been ashore in three weeks and they’d rather be in town than the castle.  Not enough lads and lassies for them to chase here, you understand.”

 

Keith nodded, but he did not understand.  He wanted them to start the music again.

 

“Aye, you’re a sweet lad,” the drumming sailor said.  “You stay clear of the prince. Innocent creature like you warming his cock?  You won’t be walking for a week.”

 

“Johnny will treat you gentle!” a sailor from the back called, prompting cheers and applause and cries for a toast.

 

“Is the music over?” Keith asked the first sailor quietly, facing burning.

 

“Not by half!” he said brightly.  “Start it up again, boys! Keep it loud until the mighty lords break their sleep and tell you to quiet down!”

 

“And then play louder!” someone else roared.

 

Laughter erupted and the music began again, hearty and loud, but Keith couldn’t find the joy in it this time.  He slunk away before the first song ended.

 

~*~*~

 

Somehow, Keith didn’t feel like swimming anymore.  He made it back to his room unseen and slipped into bed, tired but still not able to sleep.  It didn’t help that he could faintly hear the sailors’ music. He tried and failed not to think about what they’d said.

 

It made some sense, anatomically, or at least it sounded possible (and not altogether unlike how mers functioned).  But, when Keith was touching his cock, he didn’t feel arousal back _there_ , so why would that be a part of sex?  It must be that it felt good for the one entering—if a tight hand felt nice, why not a hole?

 

Would...would Shiro like that?  The way the sailors had talked about it, so confidently… even if Shiro himself had said Keith was like a brother, well, he’d said it in front of the fancy humans.  Maybe that’s all it was? A lie because the fancy humans were there?

 

(And even if Shiro didn’t love him, and if perhaps he didn’t see him like a brother, maybe he would still want to have sex, and Keith wanted that—wanted to be good for him.)

 

Before he could convince himself it was a bad idea, Keith took off his sleep clothes and settled his hand lower.  How would it feel to have Shiro’s cock enter him? How big would his cock be when it was hard and thick? Keith estimated the girth versus his fingers and settled on a minimum of three.  He pressed in slowly.

 

It hurt.

 

It burned and ached and Keith gasped, blinking fast to hold back tears that fell anyway.  Was it because he wasn’t truly human? But if Shiro wanted this, if it would feel good to Shiro… Keith pressed in deeper and whimpered.  It burned so badly and he hated it, he hated it and wanted it to stop but this was for Shiro and he closed his eyes, thinking what it must feel like for Shiro’s cock, entering a warm, tight place, pushing in even deeper.  It burned and he bite his lip, trying desperately to stay quiet.

 

This wasn’t how people had sex, though.  He knew that much. They moved fast and hard and maybe that was the problem, maybe it was because he was going too slow or because his fingers weren’t as wide as Shiro’s cock.  He tried again, this time with four fingers and bit his lip until it bled, pumping his fingers as fast as he could and it hurt so bad _it burned and burned_ and the faster he went the worse it hurt and and even his fingers ached and he could do this, he could do this if it was good for Shiro and—

 

Keith pulled out his fingers and sobbed Hero’s name into his pillow, curling in on himself.

 

He couldn’t do it.

 

Not even for Shiro.

 

~*~*~

 

Shiro was man enough to admit—to himself—that he missed Keith.  He was also man enough to admit that it was a pathetic, especially considering he’d seen the boy less than 24 hours prior.  In his defense, it sure as hell felt longer. The castle’s guests all breakfasted privately, but Shiro had assumed Keith would join him in his study.  Lance came with the news that Keith hadn’t slept well and didn’t wish to be disturbed, which hurt for a number of reasons (mostly that he was almost certainly the cause of his poor night but also because he hated to put off his apology).  Now it was evening and, after a full day of playing host, Shiro was exhausted and sorely missing his friend and crush.

 

He’d begged off presiding over dinner, leaving his guests to enjoy their supper without him because, as Lance so eloquently phrased it, “Who the fuck cares?”.  To his immense delight, Keith felt up to taking a meal with him, and he looked up excitedly when the door to his study opened.

 

Keith was walking funny again.  Shiro wouldn’t have thought anything of it (that kid could get into all kinds of trouble) if he hadn’t looked so sad.  Not just a little down, either, but outright defeated. Was he still that hurt from the day before? Guilt churned in his stomach and he immediately rose from his chair and advanced forward, asking Keith what was wrong.

 

“I’m fine,” Keith insisted immediately, straightening up and wincing slightly.

 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, but I want you to know you can tell me anything.  I’m not going to judge you. You’re important to me, and I want you to feel comfortable around me, okay?” Shiro said tenderly.  “But again, you don’t need to tell me anything you don’t want. I’m here to listen, not to pry.”

 

Keith listened intently, as he always did when Shiro spoke, and if anything he looked sadder than he did before.  He looked down and bit his lip before responding in a whisper “I don’t think I can have more sex. It hurts too much.”

 

Shiro’s heart plummeted.  Who had Keith had sex with, and why weren’t they gentle?  Who would dare to take advantage of someone so naïve and so kind, and why the _hell_ weren’t they gentle?  

 

(And why, oh god why, did Shiro have to be weak enough to be tainted with jealousy?  Why did his first reaction have to be saturated in a possessive fury when Keith was never his to begin with?)

 

“I’m so sorry,” Shiro said gently, trying to keep his voice steady.  “May…may I ask who it was with?”

 

Keith barely shook his head, a movement so small Shiro almost missed it.  

 

Wow.  He could actually feel his heart breaking.  

 

“I’m so sorry,” Shiro said again.  He had no idea what else he should say, what else he _could_ say.  He desperately wanted to find and fight whoever did this, but it wasn’t his place—not if Keith didn’t want him to.  Was it even okay to offer? “Would it help if I hugged you?”

 

Keith melted into him immediately, arms wrapped tight and face buried.  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice tiny.

 

Shiro clutched him closer, hand behind his head.  He desperately wished he had two arms. “It’s okay, Keith.  You didn’t do anything wrong.”

 

“Yes I did.  I _did_ or it wouldn’t have hurt,” Keith said, voice broken.  “Maybe it’s just my body.”

 

“No, no,” Shiro urged.  “Sex isn’t easy. If they weren’t…if they weren’t considerate, that’s not your fault.  Sex is only as good as the partner you’re with.”

 

“Then it really is my fault,” Keith said.  He tried to say more but was interrupted by a sob.

 

Shiro would kill them.  Whoever did this to Keith, he would find them and kill them.  “It isn’t, baby, I promise,” he said, trying not to choke on the words.

 

“Don't.  Don't calling me that,” Keith said, pulling back and glaring up at him through tear-stained eyes.

 

Ohhhh shit.  Wow. Okay, yeah, that was incredibly inappropriate.  But, before Shiro could stammer out an apology, Keith continued.

 

“I _know_ I’m crying but I’m not a baby.”

 

Fuck.  Keith thought he meant it like _that_.  It was still bad, just a completely different kind of bad and frankly, it was almost more embarrassing, but this was not the time to be bothered by his own discomfort.  Keith was hurt and scared and now he thought Shiro was making fun of him.

 

“No, not that, um, way.  I meant it like a pet name,” Shiro said. He was blushing like an idiot right now, wasn’t he, and it was _not the fucking time_. “Not that I think you’re a pet!” he said hurriedly as Keith opened his mouth to protest.  “It’s something people say as a kind of nickname or term of affection, like ‘honey’ or ‘sweetheart’.”

 

Keith looked incredibly skeptical, but at least he had stopped crying.

 

“I’ve never heard anyone say that,” Keith said suspiciously.

 

“Well, ah, there’re a lot of different options.  There’s ‘darling’ or ‘beaux’ or ‘love’ or, or,” he stalled out.  There _were_ lots more, weren’t there?

 

“I’ve never heard of any of those,” Keith said, now pulling back further and frowning.

 

“They’re only said to special people.  Mostly just to—” Your children? Your lover?  “—to family members,” Shiro explained. Close call.  “But also sometimes to good friends,” he added.

 

Keith hesitated before asking in a small voice “Are we still friends?”

 

“Of course we are, baby,” Shiro soothed.  “Why wouldn’t we be?”

 

“Because didn’t you want to have sex with me?” Keith asked, his voice shaking.

 

Oh fuck.  Oh shit. Oh fucking-shit-this-was-not-supposed-to-happen.  

 

“I’m sorry, what?” Shiro said faintly.  

 

“Th-the people said that’s what you wanted and that you don’t see m-me as a brother and I-I-I wanted to be good for you,” Keith hurried, panicked.  “And I asked them how men could have sex together and they told me and I tr-tried with my fingers and I _can’t_ and I’m really, really sorry.”

 

Oh god.  Keith had hurt himself _for Shiro_.

 

“I’ll do it if you want to,” Keith added suddenly.  “It wasn’t that bad. I bet it won’t h-hurt next time.”

 

Oh _god_ Keith was putting on a brave face for him because he thought that Shiro wanted it anyway.  Snapping out of his stunned silence, Shiro cupped his hand to Keith’s cheek and directed him to look up.

 

“Keith,” he said firmly, “I would never, _ever_ do anything to hurt you.  I swear it.” He waited until Keith nodded, trust and relief in his face.  “I think there’s been a misunderstanding about the…sex thing, but that isn’t your fault, okay?  Those people—whoever you talked to—shouldn’t have said that about me and they shouldn’t have told you about sex like that.  That’s not the way it works. Well, it _is_ the way it works, sort of, but um…,” he trailed off, having now embarrassed himself again and ohh shit hopefully Keith didn’t ask how sex _did_ work because Shiro was not able to face that particular challenge.

 

Thankfully, all Keith did was sigh and snuggle back into Shiro’s embrace.  

 

“I’m sorry you got hurt,” Shiro told him quietly, holding him closer.  “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

 

They stayed that way for a long time, Shiro rubbing circles across Keith’s back as he sniffled occasionally.  

 

“Keith,” Shiro asked hesitantly, “just to clarify, you didn’t have sex with anyone, right?  And none of those people touched you or made you let them watch?”

 

“It was just me,” Keith said, pulling back and rubbing at his nose.  “I was just being stupid.”

 

“No, no,” Shiro insisted.  “You were confused and didn’t understand.  That’s not the same thing.”

 

Keith did not look completely convinced, but he nodded, and that was probably enough for the moment.

 

“How are you feeling?”  Shiro asked. “Any better?”

 

Keith nodded again.  “Hungry,” he admitted.  “I didn’t have breakfast.”

 

“Me either,” Shiro said.  “It’s hard to eat without you.”

 

Keith actually smiled then, and that was worth a lot.

 

“But you _do_ remember you need to eat every day, right?” he persisted.

 

“Yes Keith, I remember I need to eat, and so do you,” Shiro said fondly.  “And, just so you know, what happened at dinner last night wasn’t your fault, either.  Those people thought you and I had an inappropriate relationship, but then,” Shiro chuckled, “they think almost everything is inappropriate.”

 

At that Keith nodded sagely.  “They said I ate wrong. And that Lance McClain shouldn’t eat with us.”

 

“See?” Shiro smiled.  “I did lose my temper, though, and I shouldn’t have.  I’m sorry if what I said hurt you. You’re a very important friend and I think of you like family, but not in the same way as a brother.”  Shiro bit his lip, a confession nearly spilling out. Even if he’d been ready, now was _not_ the time for that.

 

Keith’s look was shy and pleased and...wistful?  Hopeful? Shiro bit his lip harder. Now was _not_ the time.

 

“It’s fine, baby,” Keith said with a smile.  “I’m just glad we’re still friends.”

 

Baby??  Yeah, okay, that was his fault, but it did nothing to stop his face from flaring the brightest red.

 

Fuck.  

 

One fire at a time, Shirogane.  Focus on putting out one fire at a time.

 

( _And maybe stop setting more damn fires!_ )

 

~*~*~

 

When Lance stopped in the following morning to check on Shiro and offer him breakfast, he found the prince in something of an emotional crisis (as expected). The valet listened carefully and, when asked his advice, only shrugged.

 

“I think you did about as good as you could have.  You understand him better than I do, and if he looked happier after you talked to him, he probably was.  He’s not exactly a good liar, and even if he was, he wouldn’t lie to _you_ ,” Lance offered, which was not very helpful but also the best he could offer at the moment.

 

“But what should I _do_?” Shiro persisted.  “The sailors—”

 

“Were crass, out of line, and drunk,” Lance interrupted.  “What good would come of confronting them? Will that help you?  Will that help _Keith_?  What it will do is fuel the rumors, I can promise you that.”

 

“There has to be something more I can do,” Shiro huffed, glowering at the plate of breakfast Lance nudged toward him.

 

“You already did the most important thing: you comforted Puppy when he needed it.  That means a lot, Shiro. It might not feel like enough, but it is. I promise,” Lance said, squeezing the prince’s shoulder.  

 

Shiro slumped forward on his desk with a sigh, narrowly avoiding landing in his food.  “Do you think I can get out of being a host today? And maybe forever?”

 

“Yup, at least for the first one!  You already took the important people to the harbor yesterday, so let them finish up the inspection by themselves.  I’ll handle escorting the ladies to the various points of interest—keep them entertained,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

 

“Oh god,” Shiro groaned, “please don’t have an affair.”

 

“My prince, you wound me gravely.  I am a paragon of virtue and seek only to alleviate any boredom that might afflict the good ladies.  I assure they shall be in the most chaste of care,” Lance said loftily. “As for you, my good sir, might I recommend actually sleeping for more than an hour?”

 

“If you insist,” Shiro said, smiling despite himself.

 

Lance nodded his approval and picked up his tray, his duties completed for the moment.  He was nearly out the door when Shiro called him back.

 

“Lance?  You know how Keith doesn’t seem interested in remembering anything about himself?”  When Lance nodded the prince continued. “How bad would it be if I...took advantage of that?”

 

Lance tilted his head, considering.  “You mean if you stopped trying to find out more about him….?  Take down the posters, maybe?”

 

Shiro looked away, embarrassed.  “I don’t want him to leave me,” he admitted softly.  “And like you said, if I don’t make a move on him, someone else will.”

 

“Shiro, if there’s one thing I know with absolute certainty it’s that Puppy adores you to a downright sickening degree.  It’s disgusting. Trust me,” Lance reassured him solemnly. “And you haven’t been making a move on him because you want to be respectful of his innocence, right?  Well, stop it. Be respectful of the things you know he _does_ want—which is to say, accept that he wants you.  You two can figure out what that means between yourselves.”

 

Pleased with himself and his stellar advice, Lance again attempted to take his leave.  This time, however, he was interrupted by Puppy, who bounded into the room and greated with him a shy-yet-eager “Lance McClain! Hi, baby”, filling Lance with equal parts horror and delight.  

 

This was the work of Shiro.  Lance would recognize it anywhere.

 

Now, it was possible—not likely, but possible—that Keith had merely called his name and then directed the “baby” to Shiro.  This bore further investigation.

 

“Good morning, Keith.  Was it me you just called ‘baby’?” he asked, tone as cheerful and nonchalant as possible.

 

“Yes!” Puppy cried, his face full of joy.  “Very good friends call each other ‘baby’.”  

 

He was so damn happy that Lance nearly took pity on all of them and helped dissolve the situation—but then Puppy’s face fell.

 

“Oh.  Did you not know that because you don’t have any good friends?” he asked, full of regret and earnest sorrow.

 

Yup.  Okay. Shiro was going to pay for this one.  Maybe not now, maybe not a year from now, but he. Would. Pay.

 

Turning slowly to stare back at Shiro with a look that clearly said _I know all your sins_ , Lance smiled serenely before looking back at the now sad and anxious Puppy.  

 

“I’m just surprised you knew about that word!” he said warmly.  “Did Shiro tell you?”

 

Keith’s face cleared in relief and he nodded.

 

“Well, he’s right,” Lance said, biting back a laugh at the small cry of shock from behind him.  “But, it’s something that people only call each other in _private_ , okay baby?”  

 

Keith nodded, eyes wide, obviously absorbing this information into his core and vowing to use the Sacred Word on only the most special of occasions.  

 

“Great,” Lance said, smiling broadly and looking between the stricken prince and the again delighted Puppy.  “I’m so glad we’re all _such close friends_.”

 

Shiro now appropriately mortified, Lance bid them both a good morning and sauntered off, whistling merrily to himself.  

 

A good morning indeed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, Adam is not “interested” in Keith. He is projecting his guilt over not being there for Shiro and so he’s paying a lot of attention to the person who was there (although, he is just fine with Lance, apparently! But he already knows Lance is a good guy). Meanwhile, Shiro is projecting his jealousy. What a pair. Also, I don’t agree with Adam that Shiro left him, but I do think that is how Adam would see it, if that makes sense. 
> 
> And yup! Lance was the only one to come out to Arizo for Shiro. In the defense of the rest of his family, it was still wartime when Shiro was found. They could be there now, though. But, his parents are ruling, Yumi is busy with her wedding (and has official duties in the capital), Ryou is now the crown prince, and Yuki is too young to come on her own. And yet, they could have come if they really, really wanted to. Poor Shiro. His family isn’t exactly mean, but they are more committed to the kingdom than to him. It makes sense—they only JUST finished a war against the Galra! But yeah. Lance was the only one to be like He Needs Me. Shiro literally owes him his life; he would not have recovered without his support.
> 
> We’re not going to see much of Adam after the next chapter. I mostly wanted him here for Shiro’s character growth (for closure). Shiro’s holding onto a lot of hurt and resentment, and I wanted him to let that go. This way, he’s not totally reliant on Keith for healing, you know? 
> 
> I hope the sailor scene didn’t bother anyone too much—they weren’t trying to pick on Keith in particular or be homophobic. They were drunk and being rude/insensitive but not mean, if that makes sense?? They pick on each other a lot, too. But yeah. It fucked Keith up.
> 
> Annnnd I hope the fingering scene wasn’t too bad. =/ Keith didn’t do any permanent damage, btw. 
> 
> And this is maybe just me thinking too hard about stuff, but I REALLY hope the scene between Keith and Shiro wasn’t...funny?? Because Shiro initially thought he might have been assaulted but it was only bad fingering and, yeah, I dunno. I’ve used the “Keith doesn’t understand human things” and “Shiro misunderstands Keith” as a humor device for pretty everything for the entire fic, so… I’ve been nervous about this scene since the very first chapter. >_<
> 
> Things will be better from here on! Still some angst—of course—but next chapter we will have, at long last, at least one confession ommmgggg. Depending on how long scenes take, there will be *two* confession and then...dare I say...smut????? O3O
> 
> I posted the first of my smut prompt winners! And I will be adding in some ficlets/drabbles that I never posted over here, so look forward(?) to that. 
> 
> Apologies for uninspired chapter title--it's from a sea shanty I'm found of. I couldn't come up with anything else.


	10. Sha-la-la-la You gotta kiss the fish!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a bit of kissing, Lance accidentally creates some trouble, and a confession is made. Fucking FINALLY.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “The sea is in my blood as much as you are in my heart, and as much as god is in my soul.”  
> ― Anthony T. Hincks
> 
> “I think fish is nice, but then I think that rain is wet, so who am I to judge?”  
> ― Douglas Adams
> 
> “It has always been my private conviction that any man who puts his intelligence up against a fish and loses had it coming.”  
> ― John Steinbeck

Shiro grudgingly put in several official appearances—at least one a day—but mostly he kept to himself, hiding in his study with Keith.  

 

Lance brought him updates on the life and growth of the rumors.  Very few—if any—of the “fancy humans” (as Keith called them) believed that his relationship with Keith was fully chaste, but people had the decency to be embarrassed for talking so boldly about it.  That was something. If people kept civil, that was more than enough for him, and, well, could he really blame them for speculating when there was something to it? He _wanted_ to have a relationship with Keith, desperately, but damn it—his heart was no one’s business but his own.  

 

For his part, Keith seemed content to soak up sunlight in the window seat as he practiced reading, his painful experience either forgotten or buried.  Shiro could not guess which, and he thought it best not pry. He did, however, ask Keith if he was still interested in the banquet, as there would be dancing.  Shiro was dreading the final event (coming that very evening), but it was a small price to pay considering it signaled the end of his guests and he suspected Keith was still eager to attend, which meant he would at least one person he would enjoy talking to.

 

“Oh!” Keith cried, sitting up.  “Yes, I want to dance! I don’t know how to, though,” he added shyly.

 

Shiro wondered if it could be considered progress that Keith readily admitted to this “fault” instead of declaring himself to be the _best_ at dancing.

 

“I’d teach you if I could, but you need two arms to dance,” Shiro said.  “Lance knows how to dance, though. You could try asking him.”

 

Keith’s face fell and he slumped back into his seat.  “No, thank you,” he said sadly. “I don’t want to dance if I can’t dance with you.”

 

(And didn’t that do something soft and sweet and painful to Shiro’s chest.)

 

“And why do you need two _arms_ to dance!” Keith continued, perplexed and somehow affronted, like whoever had created dancing owed him a personal explanation for excluding Shiro.  

 

“It depends on the kind of dance,” Shiro smiled.  “It’s a banquet in a ballroom, so it will be very formal.  You might still enjoy watching—you do like learning new things.  There’s still several hours until you’d need to get ready.”

 

Keith considered this.  “You’ll be there?”

 

“I will,” Shiro assured him.  “It’s the last night everyone will be here, so I’ll suffer along and be a good host.”  

 

Keith hummed thoughtfully.  “I do have the surprise outfit,” he said to himself.  He straightened up again. “Okay. I’ll go. If-if you want me to,” he added with a blush.

 

Shiro grinned and stood up, walking over to the window seat.

 

“I would be honored to have you accompany me to the banquet, Master Keith,” he said with playful formality.  He picked up Keith’s hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. The boy burned red.

 

“ _Master_ Keith?” he asked.

 

“I am teasing you and being very formal,” Shiro explained.  The kiss was probably too far, considering the small heart attack he was currently giving himself.  

 

(It was very gratifying to note Keith’s reaction, however.  Perhaps Lance was right about the attraction being mutual…? No, no—best not to add fuel to the increasing heart palpitations.)  

 

Keith frowned.  “Why are you teasing me?” he said, grumpily withdrawing his hand.

 

“Because friends tease each other,” Shiro smiled, his heart now hammering in his ears.

 

“Oh!” Keith said, clearly embarrassed that he had taken offense, and he re-offered his hand.

 

Shiro was very tempted to kiss it again.  “When asking formally, we only kiss hands once,” he said regretfully, and that was apparently a confusing (but wonderful) way to explain the custom, because Keith nodded and then carefully kissed Shiro’s hand.

 

“I accept your invitation,” he said happily.

 

(And did his lips linger?  Shiro refused to speculate—his heart was nearly killing him as it was.)

 

Shiro decided he wasn’t dreading the evening after all.

 

~*~*~

 

Keith squealed.  There was a custom for kissing!  Hero had kissed him and he had kissed Hero!  And Hero had invited him to the dancing, which was almost better than the dancing itself.  He squealed again and squirmed excitedly, causing Lance McClain to swat his arm.

 

“If you want my help getting ready, then stand still!” he admonished.

 

Keith immediately went still and Lance McClain resumed fussing with buttons.  It seemed like an odd job for a servant—couldn’t people do this for themselves?  He decided to ask the valet.

 

“Actually, this is supposed to be my entire job,” he smiled wryly.  “I’m a valet—all I’m supposed to do is take care of his appearance, either by helping him with buckles and buttons he can’t reach or making sure his clothes are cleaned or mended properly and you know—stuff like shaving him and trimming his hair.  Back when we both lived in the capital it was more work keeping him looking proper and fancy. Meetings with foreign dignitaries, royal banquets, all that sort of thing—basically it meant fancier clothes and which meant more pockets and buckles and embroidery and lace,” Lance McClain chuckled.  “You would not _believe_ the scandals that would have erupted if he’d been missing a button!”  

 

“Why would people care about a button?” Keith frowned.

 

Lance McClain shrugged.  “A prince has to be perfect in every way.”

 

“A prince can’t be missing an arm?” Keith asked carefully, chewing his lip.

 

“That’s not the biggest issue—I mean, it’s a war injury, so that’s kind of an honor in a weird way.  No, the reason people in the capital don’t want Shiro is because they see him as mentally broken. He’s lost some memories and he’s afraid of water, which is tough if over half your country is made up of islands.  Plus, he’s stuck here. He can’t go to the capital, so it’s pretty much impossible for him to rule.”

 

“So it would have been better if he’d washed up somewhere else?” Keith asked sadly.

 

“I wonder about that,” Lance McClain said thoughtfully.  “I know he feels like he’s disappointed his family and the whole damn country, but even if he’d washed up on the sands of the central castle itself, would it make a difference?  He’d still have missing memories and he’d still be afraid of water. It might even be worse—at least out here on the fringes no one expects him to rule. If he were back home, he’d probably still try, and I think if he tried and failed it would make him even more unhappy.  He was good at it—being a prince and ruling and being a captain in the navy and meeting with ambassadors and all that. But, I don’t know if he ever _liked_ it.  I hope that one day, when he stops being angry at himself, he’ll be able to be happy here.  I don’t know, though. He would have been a really great king, and he’s always wanted to make people happy.”

 

“If he wasn’t afraid of water anymore,” Keith said slowly, “could he be a prince again?  Would that make him happy?”

 

“Hmm.  I don’t know how much being crown prince again would make him happ—hey now!  I know you want to make him happy, but don’t get any crazy ideas,” Lance McClain admonished.  “Shiro’s old enough to find out for himself what makes him happy, so don’t go making decisions for him, okay?  And that goes for both us. Anyway, you’re finished now. What do you think?”

 

Keith was twirled around to face the mirror.  These clothes were _his_ , not borrowed, and that was a bit overwhelming.   He didn’t know the names for the pieces (why were there _so many pieces_?!) but the shirt was a creamy white and the rest was dark red and very soft with black and gold trimmings.  He wasn’t sure if it was worth a surprise, but he could tell it made him look good (for a human—his tail was _much_ better, but that of course was a secret), or at least it fit very well, which is what he told Lance McClain.  

 

“Aww, don’t sell yourself short, baby!  You look amazing!” he assured Keith, winking at him in the mirror.

 

Keith flushed with pride, noting the use of the secret word, “baby”.  

 

“Anyway, it took effort on my part to get you looking so handsome, so no swimming until after the banquet, okay?” the valet continued, and when Keith nodded and gave his solemn vow, he laughed and patted him on the back.

 

“Try to have fun.  Fancy or not, they’re just humans like the rest of us, okay?” he smiled.  

 

That was not nearly as comforting a thing to say as he might have thought, Keith reflected.  

 

(But he was a little comforted anyway.)

 

He was, he decided, the best kind of nervous.  Shiro had asked him to the banquet, and according to Lance McClain (who was a _professional_ ), he looked very good.  He squealed again. It was going to be a very good evening.  

 

~*~*~

 

In keeping with the week’s theme of “fuck it”, Lance decided not only to forgo serving Adam’s favorite wine at the banquet but to serve his least favorite instead, and he nodded to himself in satisfaction as he watched the tiniest grimace cross the lord’s face.  While technically only a valet, he had been privy to a lot of servant gossip (as well as eavesdropping not a little on the prince’s conversations), so he knew a goodly amount of useful tidbits. He had been curious twerp back when he was a young teen, just starting his training, but over the years he’d come to be very close to Shiro and his habit of picking up small facts came in handy—both for the prince and for his own amusement—and this was the happy result.

 

Also in keeping with “fuck it”, Shiro had told Lance to attend the banquet himself.  All of the locals of any note were invited, so why not the prince’s best friend? Lance flushed a little at the praise.  He knew Shiro had never had much by way of friends—peers, yes; friends, no—and hearing him outright call Lance his best friend was very gratifying.  He loved Shiro like a brother: a cooler, idol-like brother.

 

And so here was Lance, hobnobbing with gentility and naval officers (and Dr. Roberts, the local clergy, and the wealthiest local landowners and merchants), and he could hardly have asked for a better present than to watch the fancy humans stifle their indignation under a mask of good manners.

 

(He’d have to forgive Shiro for the “baby” incident, drat him.  He would have enjoyed getting back at him, too.)

 

Wine, music, and dancing (plus a certain boredom with their own peers) loosened the fancy humans enough that even they were soon having an excellent time.  It was certainly going to be the talk of the island for months—if not years—to come. More importantly: Shiro was having fun. Lance had actually heard him _laughing_ a few times.  He chatted occasionally with his guests but mostly he stared at Keith with stars in his eyes and hung onto the boy’s every word.

 

“Treats him ‘like a brother’ my ass,” Lance mumbled to himself, hiding a laugh behind a swallow of Adam’s least favorite wine.  “He confesses within the week or I’m doing it for him.”

 

“I hope he does,” Adam said, walking up to Lance and easily erasing ten years off his startled life.  “I don’t know that he was ever that lost on me, and I doubt he ever needed me as badly as he does that boy.”

 

Lance was not brave enough to risk snark, and Adam was honorable enough that Lance didn’t _really_ have a problem with him, so knew he’d need to keep polite.  Still, he’d broken Shiro’s heart.  Not exactly the most endearing thing a person could do.

 

“Keith is his life raft in all of this,” Lance agreed, taking a longer sip of wine.  He smacked his lips a little louder than necessary. “Good drink, this.”

 

“Oh I heartily agree with you, Master McClain,” Dr. Roberts said, bustling over.  “A very good drink.”

 

Lance would wager he’d been dying to wedge himself into conversation all night.  What an excellent idea—leave the two of them together and let the good doctor talk the lord’s ear off.  A minor annoyance to Adam meant a minor victory for justice! And it was obvious Dr. Roberts had been _heartily_ enjoying the drink: his breath and volume proclaimed it.

 

“Yes, excellent,” Adam agreed, unable to question the prince’s choice of alcohol.

 

(Lance once again hid a smile with a swallow.)

 

Dr. Roberts was an agreeable man who had become Shiro’s personal physician (by virtue of being the only one available with actual schooling) and Lance rather liked him.  It didn’t hurt that the man had a tendency to annoy a certain kind of person.

 

(Probably not Lance’s best quality—approving of people based on how much they annoyed someone else—but again, the week’s theme was “fuck it”.)

 

“Excellent weather we’re having,” the doctor continued, a true wealth of conversation when slightly imbibed.  

 

“Yes, excellent,” the lord agreed.

 

Marvelous.

 

Unfortunately, the current song was about to end, signaling the start of a new dance and thus an opportunity for Adam to escape.  That just wouldn’t do. Lance dove back into conversation.

 

“Dr. Roberts here is the one we credit with saving Prince Shirogane’s life,” he said, roping Adam into at least ten more minutes.  

 

“Yes!  Something of a miracle, that,” the doctor cried, waving his glass for emphasis.  “Washing up right at the foot of the bay, two days after the battle was lost.”

 

“Yes,” Adam frowned, “I’d heard that.  That battle was leagues away and he had to have floated against the current.  It really is a miracle he washed up on Arizo.”

 

“A _piteous_ miracle,” Dr. Roberts said, sighing loudly.  “Comes home by magic but half a day too late to save his arm.  The sea is a cruel mistress.”

 

Lance glanced around nervously.  The doctor was getting louder and nearby people were starting to listen.  It’s not that Dr. Roberts was saying anything new or untrue, but it really didn’t need to be said, and it _especially_ didn’t need to be said where Shiro might overhear.

 

“Yes, well, all parts of life are mysterious,” Lance said hurriedly, attempting to close the subject.

 

“You raise an interesting point, doctor,” Adam considered thoughtfully.  “He washed ashore on an island he shouldn’t have, and now he’s trapped on the farthest edge of the kingdom.”

 

“Yes!  Quite so!” the doctor agreed, not following the significance but glad to have a lord find him interesting.

 

“It’s such a pity,” Adam said, true regret in his voice.  “Fate is cruel, casting him here. He would have made a fine king.  I’d heard he was doing better but if he can’t even manage the docks, I doubt he’ll ever make it back to the capital.  It really is a blow to the kingdom.”

 

“Anything else you’d like to speculate on?” Shiro asked, his voice deathly cold.

 

Lance turned, mortified, to see that the prince had walked up behind them.  Puppy was standing in Shiro’s shadow, actually shaking. Shit shit _shit_.

 

Before the stunned trio could say more, Shiro turned on his heel and left.  Keith gave them one worried glance before racing after him.

 

Coming back to himself, Adam cursed and stepped forward, intent on following, but Lance caught him by the arm and shook his head.

 

“Nothing either of us can say to him right now,” he explained gently.

 

“Fuck,” Adam muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “That was very bad just now, wasn’t it?”

 

“Very,” Lance agreed, cringing.  “Uh, wow. Well, I happen to know we have a few bottles of some wine you might like better, if you’re interested.”  He probably owed Adam that much, and this way he could work on damage control—or more accurately, keep Adam from acting on his guilty conscience.

 

The lord looked into his glass and shuddered slightly.  “Lead the way,” he said.

 

~*~*~

 

Shiro hadn’t planned to end up on a balcony, but when the cool, night air hit his face, he had to admit it was a good idea.  He sank to his elbows on the railing and breathed deep. Behind him, the door clicked shut quietly. Shiro prayed that it was Keith who had followed him—he didn’t think he could handle anyone else.

 

The boy appeared beside him, looking out into the night and saying nothing.  It was the best kind of solidarity.

 

Shiro exhaled slowly.  He wanted to slump into Keith’s arms.  He knew he’d hold him without question, but was that fair?

 

(And should he care?)

 

“I’m sorry if I frightened you,” he said.

 

“You didn’t,” Keith said simply.  “I’m sorry I made you listen.”

 

And _that_ Shiro wanted to protest—all Keith had done was ask who in the crowd was Adam and once Shiro had pointed him out, they walked closer and heard him.  But, Shiro was too tired to argue even that much. He shook his head but said nothing.

 

They stayed silent for a while (Keith no doubt was tracking the exact number of minutes), and somehow just the thought of that eased Shiro’s heart.  Keith was here. That was enough.

 

“What…,” Keith began carefully, “um, what was wrong with his face?”

 

“Whose face?  What do you mean?” Shiro asked in surprise.

 

“The wires,” Keith explained, miming circles around his eyes.

 

Shiro burst out laughing.  “Those are glasses—they help him see better.  There’s nothing wrong with his face.”

 

Keith nodded, absorbing the information and no doubt adding it to a bizarre list of his own making.  He was beautiful in the moonlight, silver tracing his edges and giving him a soft glow that suited him down to his soul.

 

“Thank you, Keith,” Shiro said softly.  “You might be the only person who doesn’t think I’m broken.”

 

Keith turned and looked at Shiro, and his eyes held a lot of feeling in that moment—confusion, concern, pain.  “But you _are_ broken, Shiro,” he said gently.  

 

No.  No no no not you too.  You’re safe you’re not supposed to—

 

“But it’s not here,” Keith said, his fingers barely brushing against the stub of Shiro’s missing arm, “or here,” he continued, lightly touching Shiro’s forehead.  “It’s here,” he said, his hand cupping over Shiro’s heart, as if it was something fragile and precious. “This breaks when you lose something important.”

 

Shiro had cried a lot since the wreck.  He’d cried from pain and loss and disappointment and failure.  But this was new. He cried from relief. He cried because it was _okay_ for him to be weak and frail.  It was okay that it hurt, the future he’d lost with Adam, the sailors and comrades he’d failed to save, the island he might never leave and the kingdom he would never lead.  He cried for the arm that he’d lost and the music he’d lost with it.

 

He cried for the ocean.

 

He was still crying when he realized that at some point he’d sat down and was now being held by Keith, who stroked his hair and sang his old, quiet song.

 

It felt like home.

 

“I’m not a good person, Keith,” he gulped, swallowing down the ache in his throat.  “I want take down the posters. I don’t want someone to claim you. I don’t want you to remember who you are because then you will leave me.”  Confessing hurt like hot iron in his gut, but how could Shiro say—even to himself—that he loved Keith if he kept this up? And he did love Keith.  He loved him with his entire being.

 

“I know who I am,” Keith said with a smile.  “I’m Keith.”

 

“Keith from the ocean,” Shiro said softly.  Keith nodded. “But you probably have a family that misses you.  You might even have a wife and children.”

 

“I might have a family but I _definitely_ don’t have a wife,” Keith promised.

 

“What makes you so certain?”

 

“My penis.  It’s not interested in women,” Keith explained solemnly.

 

Shiro couldn’t help laughing at that.  He rubbed the heels of his palms at the corners of his eyes, trying to compose himself at least a _little_.  

 

“You are very easy to love,” Shiro said softly.

 

Keith blushed.  “N-not really.”

 

“Hmm.  Easy at least for me,” Shiro said.  He leaned forward and pressed a careful kiss just to the side of Keith’s mouth.  It was a chaste thing, but the heat on Keith’s cheek told Shiro that he understood at least half of how much he’d meant it, and he was satisfied.  The boy was very, very still and, when Shiro pulled back, he could see wonder in his eyes.

 

“Thank you,” Keith whispered.

 

“Thank _you_ , Keith, for helping me learn to be happy again,” Shiro said.  He brushed back Keith’s hair and kissed him on the forehead before sighing and sinking back down into Keith’s embrace.  He’d been so afraid to confess, and here it had been so easy. All he’d had to do was tell truth.

 

Keith pulled him a little closer, carefully, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to hold him if he wasn’t crying.

 

“How did I do it?” he asked.  He sounded like he was battling skepticism and wonder.  “How did I help?”

 

“By being near me.  By being you,” Shiro said, closing his eyes as he let himself relax in Keith’s arms.   _You love me the way I wish I could love myself_ , he realized.

 

“I don’t understand,” Keith confessed, “but I’m glad.”  He went back to humming and stroking Shiro’s hair.

 

Keith shivered and Shiro’s eyes popped open.

 

“Are you cold?” he said.

 

“A little, when the wind blows,” Keith admitted, “but it’s fine.  You can go back to sleep.”

 

“No, no,” Shiro insisted, straightening and realizing from the stiffness of his joints he had not merely dozed for a minute or two.  “God, how long was I out?”

 

“I-I couldn’t check my watch, sorry,” Keith stammered, evidently appalled by his own shortcomings and lack of exact knowledge of the time.

 

“It’s fine, baby,” Shiro assured him, the pet name slipping out by its own will.  “I didn’t mean to keep you out here in the cold. Let’s get you back inside.”

 

“It’s okay,” Keith said hurriedly.  “You’re warm. You can st-stay.”

 

Shiro looked at Keith, a warm realization blooming in his chest.  Keith wasn’t merely giving permission—he was _asking_.

 

“It’s cold out here, baby,” he said softly, “but you can stay in my bed with me if you want.”  And, because he was physically incapable of not being an idiot, he stammered a few clarifications that it was just an offer and Keith was in no way obligated and it was not meant for anything untoward and—

 

“You want to cuddle?” Keith interrupted hopefully.

 

Shiro was disproportionately thrilled by that chaste hope and he blushed hard in the relative darkness.  

 

“Yeah, baby, I’d like to cuddle,” he said hoarsely.

 

Keith’s answering grin was bright even in the shadows of the night.

 

~*~*~

 

It had not occurred to Keith that the process of removing clothing might be sensual, but he could not deny that he was aroused by the knowledge that he and Shiro were currently undoing an impressive number of buttons, discarding jackets and vests as they went.  He was privately delighted to learn the order in which Shiro shed his clothes—it was secret information that he was privileged to know.

 

Soon they were free of the excess clothing (though sadly still in undergarments—why _did_ humans wear so many clothes?!) and Shiro slid under the covers, his arm holding up a corner in wordless invitation.  Keith happily followed, wriggling close immediately. He couldn’t help but hum with pleasure when he placed his head over Shiro’s heart and slung an arm around his chest.  He hadn’t been sold on human beds initially, but it was more comfortable to cuddle here than in even the nicest of seaweed nests, and he had been approving of pillows and blankets for some time.  

 

Keith tried not to be disappointed when Shiro fell asleep.  A small part of him (okay fine, a not so small part) was hoping for more kisses.  He’d had three! One for his hand, one for his cheek-and-almost-mouth, and one for his forehead and three was a lucky number but Keith was pretty sure that four or five would be even luckier.

 

(And he had only kissed Shiro once, and that wasn't fair, was it?  Shouldn’t he return the favor?)

 

Keith carefully wrapped up those thoughts and put them away for later.  So much had happened in such a short time and he needed to process some things before acting on any more kissing or not kissing.  Most importantly: what should he do about Shiro’s arm? Because from what Keith had overheard, Shiro’s arm would’ve been saved if only Keith had picked a closer island.  That hurt. Logically, Keith knew he’d done the best he could under the circumstances. There had been canons and screaming and so much blood and it had taken all of his courage to keep diving, searching, weaving past bodies and wreckage until he found Shiro, and he’d nearly killed himself with how fast he’d swum to take him to the only place he knew that—but it didn’t matter.  Shiro would have died if Keith hadn’t been there; he would still have his arm if Keith had been _better_.  

 

Those were the facts.

 

Keith wondered again if he’d done the right thing.  Shiro had said he was learning how to be happy again, and that he was happy being near Keith.  Did that make up for it? Keith didn’t know, but he was willing to spend his whole life trying to make certain of it.  

 

He was surprised by the presence of tears on his cheek, and he smeared them away.  He was cuddling with Hero! That was more important than crying, and the other thing wasn't something he knew how to deal with anyway.  

 

(There probably wasn't a right answer anyway.)

 

(Which hurt.)

 

(But it didn’t help to _stay_ in the hurt—even Keith knew that much.)

 

Keith moved on to the next part of the evening: Shiro said he was easy to love!  It filled his heart with a squirming warmth and he pressed his hand over his mouth to muffle his happy giggle.  Shiro might fall in love with him after all! He wanted to tell Pidge, but he had a feeling just get jealous and angry.  She was already frustrated that he was spending so much time on the shore—no need to make her any more upset. Red, maybe?  He’d love an excuse to see the beloved mare. Oh! Lance McClain! Yes, Keith would definitely tell Lance McClain in the morning.

 

Satisfied (and almost entirely happy), Keith allowed himself to revel in the pure joy of having his head on Hero’s chest, fully intending to stay awake for hours and enjoy it as long as possible.

 

He fell asleep in less than two minutes.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you guys are amazing. I talked about how nervous I was last chapter and then I got tons of support and my little author heart is very full. ;^;
> 
> Lance is one petty dude. I love it. I also love having him as a valet because that means the straight guy is the one fussing over clothes and keeping up with the latest styles while the gay guy is like “cool, thanks for keeping me looking good”. Also, I’ve decided that whoever was master of the castle before Lance’s arrival was all too happy to teach him what to do and then retired, which is why Lance essentially runs everything now. Lance can’t handle boredom, and technically it’s a promotion anyway. 
> 
> Shiro and Lance are waaaaay closer than a servant and prince should be and neither of them give a fuck because they are Bros 4 Lyfe. It’s sort of funny, in a way, that Lance is the one that came to Shiro because a prince without a social life doesn’t really need a valet. Shiro totally needs his bro, though. 
> 
> Adam was one of the few people Shiro was close to before the war. Not a lot of social equals in his age range, ya know? He got along really well with his siblings, though, so fear not! He wasn’t lonely.
> 
> And now he has Keeeeef. :3 And they *kissed*. Hands. And Shiro almost kissed him on the mouth omfg what a wuss. Wimping out at the last second smh. 
> 
> The next chapter is nice! Keith talks to Lance and then we get our second confession and then maybe something…...interesting. :) And new plot again but who wants THAT? Eeewww.
> 
> Two of three prompts are done, btw! Check out my “Sheith-y Shorts” to read them. Prompt number three was for more of the werewolf fic and, well, I guess I gotta get in my monster-fucking kinks where I can, so that’s happening lmao. Open to ideas if y’all want something (smut-related) for the wolfy boys. 
> 
> Oh, and how mad are you that Keith didn’t realize it was actually a confession?! Lmao. Don’t worry, he gets that cleared up immediately.
> 
> I will be out of town this weekend (going to be an aunt!!! In December lol. Just the baby shower this weekend) so I won’t be doing much writing until Tuesday or so. Probably no mer updates until late next week…? We’ll see. I always end up lying about my timelines. ;^;
> 
> And I sweeeeeaaar I will work more on responding to comments!!!!! They mean the fucking world to me—you have no idea omggg. Seriously.


	11. Darling it's better down where it's wetter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lance is too drunk to be actually hungover, Keith makes a confession, and there is humongous amount of smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I am longing to be with you, and by the sea, where we can talk together freely and build our castles in the air.”  
> ― Bram Stoker
> 
> “You can’t believe how bleeding scary the sea is! There’s, like, whales and storms and shit! They don’t bloody tell you that!”  
> ― Libba Bray
> 
> “The land is full of the ocean's misfits.”  
> ― Anthony T. Hincks

It was significantly too early in the morning for Lance to be speaking with God, Man, or Beast, and Puppy fit at least two of those categories.  And yet, despite Lance’s moral objections to being woken up at whatever accursed hour it happened to be, the creature stood outside his door, knocking in quick succession and whispering “Lance McClain!” at a painful volume every three taps.

 

Lance managed to transport himself out of his bed in a vaguely upright fashion and tugged open the door, leveling Puppy with the strongest glare he could manage (a severely watered-down and bleary thing, easily mistaken for harmless squinting).  

 

“Yeah?” he said.

 

“Oh!  You’re awake,” Puppy said with innocent relief.  “I need to ask you something.”

 

Was this heaven’s punishment?  Send the world’s softest creature to beg advice from his hungover wisdom?  Because it turned out Adam had a taste for harder wines, and he’d spent a few hours in the wine cellar with him and Dr. Roberts, drinking and reminiscing (an interesting activity when none of the participants have memories in common but nonetheless achievable with sufficient alcohol—which they’d had).  

 

Lance’s shoulder twitched, which Puppy interpreted as an invitation to enter Lance’s room and frankly why not.  Come in. Come one, come all, come in.

 

Puppy perched himself on the edge of Lance’s bed and chewed his lip, gathering his thoughts and trying Lance’s patience.  

 

“Last night,” he said carefully, “Shiro kissed me.”  A bashful blush ignited in his cheeks and flared across his face, highlighting his pride in the matter—as if this was some hard-won and momentous twist in the book of life instead of the obvious and inevitable course of fate.  

 

Lance nodded sagely.  There wasn't a lot to add, was there?  Should he say congratulations? Well, he _should_ —but that was to Shiro, for having finally found at least one of his balls.  

 

“What should I do?” Puppy asked, eyes full of stars and rainbows and kittens.  Eyes so innocent and clean you could eat off them.

 

(Lance might still be drunk.)

 

“Kiss him back?” Lance guessed.  

 

“Is that okay?” Puppy said, his voice catching on an unspoken do-I-dare-to-hope?

 

“Yeah,” Lance said, and he nodded hard once.  He coughed a little and tried again. “Yeah,” he said, “with _tongue_ ,” because people deserve nice things, dammit.  

 

“But...how?” Puppy said, baffled and innocent and clearly in need of Uncle Lance’s tutelage.  

 

“Well, you kiss with the lips, but you want the tongue in there, too,” Lance explained helpfully.  “Now, imagine my fingers are another set of lips. Watch.”

 

Lance attacked his fingers in a rather impressive demonstration of his kissing prowess and swelled with fondness as Puppy absorbed the knowledge and committed it to memory.  The kid would do just fine in life and in love. Uncle Lance would make sure of it. He ended his lesson by giving Puppy a firm hug and several strong pats on the back.

 

“You’ll do great, baby boy puppy dog kid,” he promised.  

 

Puppy was brimming over with hope and determination.  “Thank you, baby. Do you think,” he stopped himself short to chew hard on his lip and started over.  “Do you think, maybe, if-if I’m good at k-kissing, Shiro will... _fall-in-love-with-me_?” he finished in a rush.

 

“HAH,” Lance said loudly.  

 

Puppy jumped and looked frightened.

 

“No no, shh, shh, no, there there,” Lance soothed, petting down Puppy’s face.  “There’s a good boy. No, kissing is fine. You’ll be fine. Shiro’s been in love with you for a loooong time.  Kissing is fine.”

 

Puppy said nothing.  His clean and kitty-filled eyes stared their innocent shock and silence and Lance had to ask himself if perhaps he hadn’t said anything out loud after all.  Had he already showed Puppy the parts about the tongue?

 

“He’s already in love with me?” Puppy whispered.

 

“Oh did he not say that?  Well, fuck him. He should have.  He’s told me that enough, fuck him.  Yeah,” Lance nodded, not quite remembering what he had originally planned to say.  

 

“He told me I was easy to love—is that the same thing?” Puppy asked.  

 

“Well he told me you were super cute and he didn’t know what to do about it because you’re way too cute, so, yeah,” Lance reasoned.  

 

Puppy made a high-pitched noise into his hands, his face stupidly cute and embarrassed.

 

“Awww, you little Puppy dog,” Lance said.  He squeezed Puppy in his arms and then petted him behind his ear.  “Good boy. Go play. Uncle Lance is tired and drank too much.”

 

“If you drank too much do you need to pee?” Puppy asked.

 

“Oh fuck probably a lot,” Lance agreed.  “Ohhhh shit I gotta make sure Adam and Roberts and them are okay.  Fuck. I have a job. Fuuuuuck. Hey! Little clock man! What time is it?”

 

Puppy dutifully checked his watch and informed Lance it was now 5:21.

 

“ _Fuck me sideways_ that is a beautiful time of day to be asleep,” Lance said solemnly.

 

Puppy was once again baffled.  “People can fuck sideways?”

 

Lance chuckled.  “Oh boy can they ever.”  

 

“How?” Puppy asked eagerly.

 

“Pffft, I’m not telling,” Lance giggled.  “Ask Shiro. He will be _delighted_ to show you.  Now go away. I’m going to sleep until I can’t.  Then I’ll wake up.”

 

(It was a really good plan and he was proud of himself for thinking of it.)

 

Puppy thanked him profusely (as he should, because Lance was awesome) and left.  Lance buried himself in his pillows and giggled. Shiro had found his balls! It was about damn time.

 

He fell asleep before he could decide if he should get back up to pee.

 

~*~*~

 

_Shiro dreamed of the ocean.  It was warm and shallow and sunlit, and he floated gently without panic or worry.  It was peaceful; it was sad. He was alone, but when he closed his eyes, the water felt like an embrace—arms around his middle, his head on someone’s chest.  The ocean had a name he could not remember and a voice that sounded like singing._

 

When he woke up he was alone, but the bed beside him was still warm from Keith.  Light was just barely in the window, and with only a few slow breaths, he was calm enough to believe that Keith would be back again.

 

And, in a few minutes, he was.

 

~*~*~

 

“Shiro?” Keith asked quietly, peaking into the prince’s room.  He was feeling shy after talking to Lance McClain. Was Shiro really in love with him?  It filled him with hope, and hope was terrifying.

 

He’d had no idea how desperately he needed Hero to be in love with him until the promise of it was this close.

 

“Hi baby,” Shiro said softly.  He was sitting up in bed now. He looked rested, but a little sad.

 

“Can I come back to bed?” he asked, shyer by the second.  Shiro was so beautiful, limned in morning and soft from sleep.  It was hard to look at him.

 

(It was impossible not to.)

 

Shiro’s smile was a gentle thing, warm in his eyes and relieved in the corners of his lips.  “Of course. You never have to ask.”

 

(That was an unfair thing to say—it fed the Hope too much.)

 

Keith sat on the edge of the bed, afraid to get closer.  He wanted to flee to the ocean or maybe kiss him senseless or pretend to fall asleep or do anything but be brave and _ask_ , but he need to—he needed to be brave for Shiro, always.

 

He tucked his legs under himself to push away the desire to run and took a deep breath.

 

“You told me I was easy to love.  I need to know what that means and how you love me,” he said.

 

“It means many things.  There is friendship, and gratitude, and desire,” Shiro said, the last one added almost hesitantly.  “I don’t want you to feel like you need to do anything about it. I love you. That’s it—you can act exactly the same way as before.  I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

 

Keith shook his head.  Shiro’s love—no matter its form—was a precious thing.  It could never make him uncomfortable. _Keith’s_ love, however, might be selfish.  There were parts of himself he had never shared with Shiro, parts that would change the way Shiro looked at him and maybe it was better to keep silent—even if the silence was selfish.  He’d made Shiro happy just by being there. Maybe it was better to leave it that simple.

 

Maybe they could just _be_.

 

"How can you love me—you don't know who I was before," Keith said.  

 

(He was afraid to break this, whatever it was, but he needed to be brave.)  

 

"I know who you are,” Shiro said with a soft smile.  “You're Keith from the ocean."

 

Keith bit his lip.  "What if I remembered something...and I didn't tell you about it."

 

"Then I would assume you had a good reason not to tell me," Shiro said, smiling softly.  "I trust you, Keith. If you want to stay here, then stay. You don't need any other reason, and you don’t ever need to tell me more."

 

Keith hesitated, and then he crawled across the bed to wrap his arms around Shiro and snuggle into his neck.  

 

"I want to stay," he said in a tiny voice, "because you're here."

 

Shiro's arm cradled him close, firm but careful.  Keith could hear the hitch in his breathing.

 

"I love you, the way you love me," Keith whispered.  "That's why I want to stay."

 

Shiro’s shaking breath was warm on Keith’s cheek.

 

“How are you real?” he asked with a trembling laugh.

 

Keith didn’t have answer for that except to squirm and hide his face more.  He very much wanted to kiss Shiro but it was too embarrassing and the hope that had burned and flared was roaring into disbelief and it was hard to think over the pounding of his heart.  

 

Shiro’s arm wrapped tighter and Keith somehow had the impression he was crying.  

 

“You’re beautiful, too.  You’re beautiful like a storm,” Shiro said.

 

And now Keith _had_ to kiss him.

 

(He was too embarrassed to open his eyes, though.)

 

(But somehow he didn’t miss.)

 

~*~*~

 

“I see you found your balls last night,” Lance said casually.

 

Shiro choked on air.

 

Puppy sat up in bed, blinking and rubbing his eyes as he looked between them.  “We didn’t have sex,” he said. “Why would balls matter?”

 

Shiro choked harder.

 

Lance shook his head as he set down the breakfast tray on a side table next to the bed.  “I had a feeling you two might still be in here and figured you’d like breakfast in bed. Anyway, the ship isn’t leaving until midday, so take your time not having sex.  Good day.”

 

Shiro was still spluttering as Lance shut the door.

 

Good fucking morning indeed, hangover be damned.

 

 _God_ he should not have fucking drank that much though, holy fucking shit.  Adam was a fucking champion and Lance was almost-but-not-quite sorry he’d ever disliked him.  He was pretty damn smart, too—all that stuff about currents and Shiro being on Arizo. It didn’t make sense.  It really, _really_ didn’t.  Sure, wreckage floated up weird places all the time, but there was no way Shiro could have floated that far _against the current_ that fast.  Not that the ocean didn’t do its own damn thing, but still.  And the currents were mostly from the wind and winds can do weird stuff.  

 

But _still_.

 

Well, it’s not like it changed anything.  Shiro was where he was and that was that. He was alive, and that was the main thing.  

 

But _still_.

 

Lance sighed and shook his head.  There was no point in thinking on it further, no matter how weird it might be.  On a change of subject: Shiro had finally (almost) bedded Puppy! There would be no living with them after this.  They were going to be kissy and gross and while there was still opportunity for hilarity, there was now the very likely threat of walking in on them, so he should probably give them from space for a while.

 

Like the next five or so months.

 

Lance’s stomach suddenly posed the interesting of question of Should He Throw Up? and the answer fortunately was No.  Fuck was he ever glad Adam & Associates were leaving. He did not need to drink like that again. Ever.

 

Shockingly, he was glad they’d come.  He was proud of how Shiro had handled himself.  Sure, he’d lost his temper, but it was reasonable.  Maybe not to the fancy humans, but fuck ‘em. Adam had thought it was reasonable, and he was ultimately the one reporting on the states of the various ports anyway.  The fancy humans would spread their gossip though, Lance thought with a sigh. Still, Adam had told him that there were whispers in the capital that Shiro had actually died, so maybe a few rumors of him being alive but grumpy weren’t so bad.

 

Lance pushed aside his headache to review what he could of the evening.  The guests were leaving, after all, and if he had more fires to put out, now was the time.  Dr. Roberts had fallen asleep fairly early on. Lance had balanced a bottle on the good doctor's head and two on his stomach and decided he was a pretty good fellow.  Adam had shaken his head and downed more wine. Adam had also asked if Shiro was “usually like this” to which Lance said “pissed when people speculate about his personal life and mental health?” and Adam had winced and apologized.  He’d then clarified that he thought Shiro was doing rather well, all considering, and did Lance think he’d be up to more official tasks in the future? Because Arizo’s port was in much better condition than most and Adam was thinking of recommending making it the capital of western trade.  

 

Lance had said he’d get back to him.

 

And then Shiro had fucking kissed Puppy.  Incredible.

 

If Puppy had helped Shiro that much before, Lance couldn’t imagine how much better Shiro would be in a few months (now that he was free to be honest and cuddly).  He’d monitor them for a while before bringing up the offer.

 

Actually, Lance frowned, he should probably do some better digging around about Keith, if possible.  The kid was pure as the driven snow but that didn’t mean there wasn't something or someone in his past that wouldn’t cause trouble, and if Shiro was going to involve himself in more official duties, he would need support not distractions.  

 

Lance dearly wished to see Shiro find a sense of accomplishment again.  He was going to double his efforts in helping that happen. His stomach suddenly suddenly posed another question.

 

(The answer thankfully was still No.)

 

(Okay, doubling efforts after he was sober again.)

 

Lance straightened his shoulders.  Time to get rid of the guests.

 

~*~*~

 

It was evening and finally, finally Shiro could rest again.  Or he could, if he wasn't nervous as hell about Keith. Bidding the guests farewell and escorting them to the docks had been nothing to compared sitting across from Keith, eating dinner, knowing that the second the plates were clean the boy was absolutely going to suggest something.

 

The severity of the suggestion was anybody’s guess, and Shiro’s hands were sweating to an extremely unattractive degree because honestly?  Even just kissing had been devastating. The first few presses had been shy and exploring, and then Keith had licked tentatively along the seam of Shiro’s lips and had been welcomed in.  Keith had _moaned_.  One lick in and he’d moaned against Shiro’s mouth and clamored to be over him, fingers scrambling to find a hold.  

 

“This means you want to kiss me, right?” Keith had asked excitedly between eager kisses.

 

“Yes, god yes,” Shiro had assured him, tangling his hand in Keith’s long, black locks, pulling him back down, and god did he love Keith’s hair.  He loved the darkness of it against his sheets and how the morning light trimmed it with a halo, the contrast of it making the light all the brighter.  

 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Shiro had nearly growled between kisses, and Keith had been blushing as he silenced him.  Both of them had kiss-swollen lips by the time they stopped to breathe.

 

“Fuck, baby, you’re so good at this,” Shiro had panted.  

 

“Lance McClain taught me,” Keith had said with bashful pride.  

 

Which was both confusing and instantly clarifying: it was why Keith had snuck out of bed and why Lance had expected to them to be in Shiro’s room together.  

 

He could only pray Keith would ask _him_ about sex, not anyone else, which was also a nerve-wracking thought because sex.  Sex with Keith.

 

He was going to have sex with Keith.  

 

(Maybe even tonight.)

 

He had put an end to their make out session by claiming to still be a bit tired, but truthfully he’d been overcome with stagefright.  Keith had pouted before declaring that they’d kissed 41 or perhaps 59 times, depending, and he was really happy about it, and Shiro hadn’t know what to say except “It should be an even 60” and had kissed him on the forehead.  That had made Keith content, and he’d snuggled back down on Shiro’s chest and told him that he loved him and he was really, really glad Shiro loved him, too.

 

It was not fair.  Keith was inhumanly cute and Shiro had no idea how he could possibly have sex with him without mortifying himself.

 

(He was still pretty damn willing to try.)

 

And, sure enough, once they had finished their meal, Keith bashfully asked if they could kiss some more.

 

Shiro licked his lips nervously.  “Definitely. Yes. We should go back to my room, though,” he said.

 

“Kissing on the bed?” Keith asked excitedly.

 

“Kissing on the bed,” Shiro confirmed.  He rose and offered Keith his hand, and damned if the boy didn’t kiss it and then hold it carefully as they walked back to Shiro’s room.  

 

Once in the room, Shiro locked the door.  The expression Keith made went straight to his cock.  

 

“Does this mean we can be naked?” Keith asked, hesitantly hopeful, eyes very dark.

 

Shiro swallowed in a vain attempt to pull moisture into his dry throat.  “Yeah. Yeah, we can be naked.”

 

Keith’s darkened eyes abruptly turned from lust to worry.  

 

“I don’t want you to see my feet,” he said.

 

“Baby,” Shiro said, immediately stepping forward and slipping his hand behind Keith’s head, “you don’t have to show me anything you don’t want to.  Tell me if anything we do makes you uncomfortable, okay? You can keep your socks on or anything else you want.”

 

Trust and relief flooded Keith’s face.  He nodded and then nuzzled at Shiro’s neck before stepping back and unbuttoning his shirt.  

 

He was so damn beautiful.  He was shy but unashamed, and Shiro watched him silently as he removed each article of clothing and draped it over the back of a chair, somehow all the more arousing by doing it naturally and without teasing.  He was simply Keith, and he was beautiful.

 

He looked up at Shiro with expectant hope, expression dropping slightly after a moment.

 

“Did you...did you not want to show me anything?” he said, disappointment in the corners of his voice.  “But you don’t have to if you’re not comfortable,” he added hurriedly. “I-I want t-to see you but it’s fine if you—”

 

“I’m all scarred up, baby, but you can look at me,” Shiro interrupted gently.  “Sorry, I was distracted looking at you.”

 

Keith preened under the praise, a little bashful but mostly proud.  “Scars won’t make you less beautiful,” he promised, and somehow Shiro believed him.

 

Shiro groped blindly at his buttons, unwilling— _unable_ —to look away.  He’d gotten tantalizing, wet-dream inducing glimpses of Keith’s body from the start, and now he could finally look without guilt.  His muscles were firm and defined and Shiro wanted to worship them with his tongue. He wanted to darken each nipple with thorough attention from his lips and teeth and worry each nub until Keith was gasping.  The smooth expanses of his pale skin were begging to be marked with bites and bruises and god how perfect would he look swimming in the sun, sparkling water sliding over the vee of his hips, highlighting the claims Shiro left on him?  A surge of blood pulsed into his cock at the thought. Shiro wanted to make that body _his_.

 

God, Shiro really needed to get ahold of himself.  He simultaneously wanted to ravage and crush Keith—to bite hard and pound deep—and to hold him like glass, cherish him like treasure.  Keith was firm and delicate, ravenous and innocent, and Shiro knew the boy would break like a wave on the sharpest rocks in his eager pursuit of mutual desire.  They both needed Shiro to slow them down and act as a guide because if there was one thing Keith had proven, it was that he would willingly hurt himself to please Shiro.  

 

And fuck—Keith was looking at him revertently.  For the first time since the wreck, Shiro felt desirable.  His fingers stalled and fumbled uselessly halfway down his shirt and Keith stepped forward, a silent question in his eyes, and Shiro nodded, letting him finish the work of undressing him.  He was hard by the time the last article left him.

 

Almost last article.  Keith had removed one of Shiro’s socks and was now staring at his foot, completely frozen.

 

“Keith?” Shiro asked in concern.  “Is everything okay?”

 

Keith looked up at him with shining eyes.  “Everything is _perfect_ ,” he said, his voice trembling.  

 

He removed Shiro’s other sock like it was a holy relic before nearly ripping off his own and he stood back up, his face beaming and eyes shining.

 

“Shiro, if we’re naked, does that mean we’re doing more than kissing?” Keith asked.  He was visibly restraining himself from touching Shiro and _that_ did something deep and strong to his ego.

 

Right.  Getting ahold of himself now.  He took Keith’s hand nad guided him to the bed, sitting down and gesturing for Keith to join him.

 

“Is it alright if we take this slow?” Shiro asked, tucking a lock of hair behind Keith’s ear.  “I want to do everything, eventually, but you’re important to me, and sex can be difficult. I want to go at a pace that helps you feel confident.”

 

Shiro half expected Keith to protest and declare himself the best at sex, but the boy smiled shyly and nodded.

 

“I want to do _something_ , though.  Is that alright?  Please,” he added hastily.

 

“Of course,” Shiro smiled.  “What would you like to do?”

 

“Touch your penis,” Keith said, face red and voice muffled by the pillow he suddenly ducked into.

 

Shiro bit back a laugh.  “I would be very happy for you to touch my penis,” he promised.

 

Keith unburied himself from the pillow.  “And can I kiss your nipples?” he asked, looking intriguingly hungry.

 

“You can kiss me wherever you like,” Shiro smiled, the thrum of desire burning brighter.

 

Keith froze.  Slowly, he looked down Shiro’s body, eyes coming to rest on Shiro’s cock.  He licked his lips.

 

“Can I…,” he whispered hoarsely, “can I kiss your penis?  W-would that be okay?”

 

Shiro was dead.  Keith had killed him with innocent lust.  

 

“Yeah baby,” he croaked.  “That would be nice.”

 

Keith put his palm over Shiro’s heart and pressed him gently to the bed.  Shiro scooted back and arranged himself and Keith followed him, gaze reverent and hungry and almost wistful, and his eyes trailed over Shiro's body and back up to his eyes as he straddled Shiro.

 

“Thank you, for letting me kiss you.  I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time,” he whispered, and leaned down.  

 

Shiro let out a tiny gasp at the contact as Keith’s mouth closed around his nipple, sucking lightly.  He was exploring, flicking sometimes with his tongue, and he popped off to announce with excited pride that “It _did_ get harder!” and then returned to his work, now sucking eagerly.

 

Shiro cursed under his breath and thread his fingers behind Keith’s head, holding him close.

 

“Feels good, ba—nnggh!” he gasped.

 

Keith stopped, horrified.  “Did that hurt?”

 

“N-no, biting felt nice.  You can use your teeth,” Shiro reassured him.  

 

Keith blushed.  “Your noises are really nice,” he admitted shyly.  “They make me harder down here,” he said, touching his cock, “but I was a little worried.”

 

Shiro was resurrected and slain again.  This was probably terrible dirty talk and he did not give a damn because it was also easily the best he’d ever heard.

 

“Trust me, it was fine.  Just don’t use teeth on my cock,” he added with a breathless laugh.  “That would be too much.”

 

Keith glanced down.  

 

“It’s very sensitive?” he asked, and he tentatively touched the tip.

 

“Yes,” Shiro gasped.  

 

“Mine is, too,” Keith admitted.  He wormed his way lower to exam Shiro’s cock more thoroughly.  “But’s okay if I kiss it, right?”

 

Dead again.

 

“Yeah, baby, you can kiss it,” Shiro promised.  “You can kiss it and lick it however you want.”

 

And dear god _please_ do.

 

“ _Lick_ it?” Keith said, his eyes wide.  He stared down for a moment and then his pink tongue slipped out and gave Shiro’s aching cock an experimental swipe.  He moaned. “Ohhh you taste good.”

 

Dead and buried.

 

Careful licks turned eager and then ravenous as Keith covered his length in thorough worship, tongue and mouth soon joined by hands.  

 

“Fuck, it’s so good,” Shiro gasped.  “W-would you put it in your mouth? You don’t have to, but—oh fuck _fuck_ that’s amazing god Keith _Keith_.”

 

Shiro was writhing now, desperately trying to keep his hips from bucking but fuck that mouth felt amazing and Keith was moaning around him and swirling his tongue.

 

“It’s so good,” Keith panted, pulling off.  “I love it in my mouth.” He dove back down and moaned _loud_.

 

Shiro was moaning in response and he dug his fingers deep into the sheets, knowing that if he put his hand back on Keith’s head he would be yanking it down on him in seconds.  Keith had him lost and dizzy and his pleasure was mounting, hot and low.

 

“Baby you gotta stop,” he gasped.  “You gotta stop or I’ll come oh fuck baby you gotta—”

 

Keith pulled off, but stayed bent over, lips dangerously close to Shiro’s cock.

 

“Is that not okay?” he said, voice hoarse.

 

“You okay with me finishing in your mouth?” Shiro said, still gasping.  

 

“I _want_ you to,” Keith mumbled, facing flushing as he looked away in embarrassment.

 

Shiro reached out and tucked a finger under Keith’s chin, gently guiding him to look up again.

 

“Baby, I want that so bad,” he promised.  “You feel so good sucking on me and I wanna see you swallow down everything I can give you.”

 

That might have been a little dirtier than he meant to go.  

 

(Keith appeared to be okay with it, though, because he shivered before sucking him down again, eyes rolling back in pleasure.)

 

“Oh god Keith yes like that more like that,” Shiro pleaded.  “Oh fuck _fuck_ god that’s perfect that’s it _there_ fuck more there Keith _Keith_ —”

 

Shiro arched and spilled into Keith with a wordless cry, pleasure rushing through him in a way it hadn’t for years.  His chest was still heaving when he came back to himself and Keith was still licking, though now very gently as if he were cleaning up and maybe hoping to coax out just a tiny bit more.

 

“You taste like the sea,” he said contentedly, resting his chin on Shiro’s thigh and smiling.

 

(Of course the kid would like salt.)

 

“ _God_ I forgot how good that feels,” Shiro sighed.

 

Keith’s face crumbled.  “Oh,” was all he said.

 

“Baby?  What’s wrong?”  Shiro said, sitting up immediately.

 

Keith shook his head rapidly.  “It’s silly. I’m fine.”

 

“It’s not silly if it makes you sad,” he insisted gently.  “Tell me.”

 

“I thought it...might have been new.”  A pause. “It was new to me and I...forgot about Adam.”

 

Shiro’s heart ached at that.  Of course this was all new and exciting for Keith.  Mentioning a past lover, however indirectly, was tactless. Keith was sensitive—he needed reassurance.

 

“Baby, come here,” he beckoned softly.  Keith obediently crept closer and Shiro brushed his cheek with his hand.  “I’m so, so happy that it’s _you_ here.  I’m so, so happy that I get to do this with you.  You’re the one here with me right now, and I don’t want anyone else.”  Keith leaned into the caress and closed his eyes. “Yes, I’ve done these acts before, but it is new to me, too, because I haven’t done them with you, and that makes them special.   _You’re_ special.”

 

“You’re not mad that I’m jealous?” Keith asked, opening his eyes.  He looked remorseful and hopeful and it was so cute it hurt.

 

“No, baby, not even a little.  In fact, I think it’s very flattering.  You’re jealous because you like me, and you were feeling insecure because you thought it wasn't as important to me as it is to you, right?”

 

Keith nodded.

 

“It’s important, Keith.  I promise. I love you,” he said, his voice hitching.  “I love you so much.”

 

Keith smiled a little and snuggled down on Shiro’s chest with a sigh, arms wrapped and legs straddling.  He squeezed.

 

“I like legs.  You can hug twice at the same time,” he said happily.  

 

 _Fuck_ he was adorable.  He also still had an erection and Shiro was very interested in helping him do something about it.  He stroked across Keith’s back.

 

“Baby?  Is it alright if I do something to you, too?”

 

~*~*~

 

Keith had expected (assumed?) Shiro was going to repeat his actions (a thrilling idea!), so he was confused when Shiro briefly left the bed and returned with what appeared to be a small vial of oil.

 

“Will you tell me how you fingered yourself before?  I want to see if I can help you, but if you’re scared, we can definitely do something else.”

 

“I put some fingers up my anus?” Keith said, confused.  What other way _was_ there?

 

Shiro winced a little.  “How many?”

 

“Three, and then four, just in case.”

 

Shiro winced harder.  “You _started_ with three?”  

 

Keith nodded and Shiro actually closed his eyes.  

 

“Did you use any oil or at least some spit?”

 

“Why would I use oil _there_?” Keith asked, baffled.  Oil was for machines or cooking.    

 

Shiro muttered some things under his breath.  Keith was embarrassed. He was apparently very bad at sex.  He ducked his head.

 

“If you want to try, I think we can do a lot better,” Shiro said firmly.  “Does anything still hurt down there?”

 

Keith shook his head.

 

“Good.  Is it alright if I work on you a little bit?  You can absolutely say no and it won’t bother me at all,” Shiro promised, and Keith believed him.

 

“This is how people start sex…?” Keith asked.  He didn’t understand it, really, but Shiro wanted to do it and he knew how to do these things.  

 

(And didn’t this mean Shiro wanted to have real sex with him, if not today than later?  A tremor of excitement shivered down his spine.)

 

Shiro nodded.  “Sex would be too much today, but even with one finger I can find a way to make you feel good.”

 

Now that was surprising.  “It will feel _good_?” he asked, almost incredulous.

 

“Oh, baby,” Shiro said, eyes sad.  “I only want to do things that make you feel good.”

 

Of _course_ he did.  This was Hero, and Keith should have known better.  He hid his face in embarrassment.

 

Shiro hugged him.  “Did you think sex only felt good for the person entering?” he asked quietly.

 

“Yes,” Keith whispered.

 

Shiro planted soft kisses in his hair.  “It can take some learning, but it should feel very good for both partners.  I’ll do my best to show you, but if it hurts you at all, we’ll stop and try again later.  There’s lots of ways to make you feel good and to make me feel good and to make us both feel good together.  I just wanted to show you this one, since last time it wasn't good for you. I wanted to replace your sad memory with a good one.”

 

Keith peaked up again and Shiro’s smile was so sweet and tender that Keith just _had_ to kiss it.

 

(Several times.)

 

“So, do you want to try?” Shiro asked when Keith at last pulled away.  

 

Keith smiled and nodded.  “How should I lie down? Oh! Or do I sit?  Or stand?? Lance McClain said people can have sex sideways and that you would show me.”

 

Shiro made a strangled noise and turned red.  “There’s a l-lot of possible positions. It’s easiest to start on your back or side.”

 

Keith settled on his side and propped up one leg as directed.  He helped Shiro open the vial and coat his fingers with oil.

 

“Okay, I’m going to rub along your hole now but I’m not going to press in yet.  All you need to do is relax for me,” Shiro told him, kissing his cheek and ear.

 

Keith nodded and Shiro’s hand disappeared lower.  He jumped slightly at the feeling of fingers spreading oil and Shiro kissed an apology on his nose.  

 

“It takes a bit to get used to being touched here,” he said, fingers grazing lightly.  

 

It was odd, but it didn’t hurt and it wasn’t uncomfortable (although it was embarrassing) and Keith was able to relax and let Shiro spread and massage the oil.  Keith helped him reapply it once (he must now be ridiculously slick down there) and then Shiro kissed his brow and told him to stay relaxed—he was going to push in a little.

 

Shiro pressed in the tip of one finger and pulled out again.  

 

It was very unimpressive.

 

“Was that supposed to feel good?” Keith asked cautiously, not wanting to hurt Shiro’s feelings.

 

Thankfully, Shiro just chuckled.

 

“It shouldn’t hurt, but I don’t think most people think it’s good until later.  There’s a nice spot, but it’s on the inside. For now, I’m just wanting to let your body get used to having me inside you.”

 

Keith shivered at the thought of Shiro being _inside_ him.

 

“Please put it back in,” he said, voice a little lower.

 

Shiro kissed his nose again and complied, this time pressing in deeper and swirling his finger a little.  “Deeper?” Shiro asked, and when Keith nodded he pressed in again. He set a slow rhythm of pushing in and out and it wasn't exactly good, but Keith liked it a bit anyway.  He definitely liked the _thought_ of it.  He liked that Shiro was helping his body learn a way to take Shiro inside of himself.

 

“I like that part of you is inside me,” he whispered, and he heard Shiro’s breath hitch.  

 

“I like that too, baby,” Shiro whispered back, and this time pressed in the furthest he had yet.  “That’s my whole finger. Does anything hurt?”

 

Keith shook his head.  “Just feels weird, but I like that it’s you.”

 

Shiro massaged him internally and kiss along his jaw.

 

And then he touched somewhere new.

 

“Ahh!” Keith cried in surprise, clenching on Shiro’s finger without meaning to.  He hoped he hadn’t hurt it.

 

“How was that?” Shiro smiled.

 

“W-was that the spot?” Keith asked.

 

Shiro just kissed him and stroked inside him, finger close but not _quite_ touching the (possibly?) good spot.

 

“Shi—ro,” Keith whined.  “Try it again. I want to know.”

 

Shiro’s finger grazed over the spot and Keith gasped.  It was the start of something good. It wasn't _penis_ good, but it was good, and Keith wanted to try more of it.  He shifted his hips and Shiro shifted with him, now resuming his in and out rhythm while occasionally brushing over the good spot.  

 

Sparks began to shimmer down his spine.  He squirmed on Shiro’s finger, uncertain if he wanted less or more of the intense feeling, and he began to breathe harder.

 

“Is it good?”  Shiro asked, sucking lightly on Keith’s jaw and then kissing along his neck.

 

“I th-think so,” Keith gasped.  

 

“Mmm, let’s find out for sure,” Shiro teased.  He started focusing his efforts on that wonderful spot and Keith whimpered, squirming harder.  Shiro’s finger chased him wherever he moved and it was _good_ —penis good—and he wanted more but he didn’t know what to do.  He clutched at Shiro’s shoulders.

 

“It’s good it’s good,” he moaned.   “Shiro it’s _so good_.”

 

Shiro was breathing harder now, too.  “Touch yourself for me. You’ll feel even better.  Touch your cock. I wanna see you do it.”

 

Keith tugged at himself and he couldn’t stop whimpering, couldn’t stop squirming, couldn’t _stop_ and it was so good so good and he chanted Hero’s name and begged for more, more, more—

 

He sobbed as he released between them, Shiro praising and kissing him all the while.

  


~*~*~

 

“You called me Hero when you came,” Shiro murmured into Keith’s hair.  “Did you know that?”

 

“You _are_ Hero,” Keith said with sleepy sigh.

 

“Hmm, felt that good, huh?” Shiro teased.  They were cleaned up and tucked together under the sheets, Keith’s head resting on his chest.

 

Keith giggled.  “No, it’s your _name_ , silly.  It is to me, anyway.”

 

“You called me that the first time we met.  Do you remember? I thought you were very drunk,” Shiro said, smiling at the memory.

 

“The _first_ time?” Keith asked through a yawn.  “Ohhh. In town. I guess your face inspired me.”  Keith tried to say more and yawned again.

 

“Go to sleep,” Shiro chuckled.  

 

“Mm ‘kay,” Keith said, obeying in seconds.

 

Shiro lay awake for a long time, petting Keith’s hair and marveling at the beautiful man in his arms (or rather, arm and a half he thought ruefully), wondering what he had done to deserve the miracle that was Keith.

 

“If you are the ocean’s apology, then I forgive it for everything,” he whispered.

 

And he meant it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a shocking twist that has left the nation reeling, Saasan wrote a smut scene were the kiddos didn’t go all the way the first time.  Details at 11.
> 
> No but really, I almost always have my characters Go For It.  XD What can I say? I’m a thirsty girl. This is a longer fic, though, so we’ve got time and I think we all know Keith needed Shiro to be responsible and slow him down.  Annnnd then the smut scene was gigantic lmao. And fluffy as fuck! That was super fun and cute and Shiro died a lot, poor guy. He did a good job for his Keefy, though, so it’s fine.  <3
> 
> Not to be TMI, but are any of you guys virgins?  ‘Cause I got some advice for first timers: ignore the people who say it won’t hurt “if you’re careful enough” or whatever.  It shouldn’t be extremely painful, of course, but your first time is not going to be porn perfect. Lube, lube, lube! And gentle stretching and foreplay!  That’s true for all genders and will make a huge difference, but it’s new stuff for your body to do, so yeah. It’ll be uncomfortable. And that’s okay! Sex is more than just orgasms (says the smut writer).  Also: in all likelihood, your partner will be very happy to help you practice. *wink wink wink* 
> 
> (None of that applied to this story.  Uh…. you’re welcome???)
> 
> Side rant: Rough sex is hawt, but half the smut I read scares me with how hard the characters go.  XD Jebus some people have high pain tolerances! Or, more likely, are virgins and assume that’s how you make sex intense/better.  I’ll be really fucking impressed/concerned if people can “drill” into the prostate while slamming so hard the walls shake. Less concerned for a pussy pounding.  They can handle that. 
> 
> Bumper sticker idea: Be Kind To Your Anus.
> 
> Poor Keef is feeling insecure because mers usually only fall in love once.  He knows Shiro loves him, though! And it doesn’t hurt that Shiro is always willing to tell him that.  <3 So he’s mostly fine, but a little bit sad. Shiro going slow (is fingering your first time together slow???) will help him a lot.  Knowing more of what he’s doing and then getting better and watching was it does to Shiro...very good for his confidence. X3 Not that we’ll see most of that--I’m not going to make this fic THAT long sweet jebus.
> 
> Drunk Lance is best Lance.
> 
> Annnnd next chapter he’s going to start putting a few pieces together.  PLOT omg. Depending on the length of the scenes, backstory will start in Chapter 13.  WE’LL SEE. There’s also the possibility I’ll need to add another chapter ‘cause I’m freaking bad at guessing these things.
> 
> Oh. And this is the longest chapter I've ever written and *probably* the longest smut scene. *confetti* In fact, it was so long I almost forgot that we hadn't gotten Keith's confession until this chapter. How cute was that?!?! I swear to god, I forget I'm the one writing this thing. I go back to read and edit and I'm like "Awww! Adorable!" like I freaking wasn't involved???? I dunno. The meds are getting to me, maybe.
> 
> I've been using Google Docs and it's FREAKING ME OUT not to hit "save" constantly. Yikes yikes.


	12. The Cruel Sea & the Cruel Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is not one but two fluffy cuddle scenes, and the proverbial shit hits the proverbial fan.
> 
> Otherwise known as: Saasan's longest and meanest chapter to date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “The sea, he thought, had treasured its memories deeper than the faithless land.”
> 
> ― F. Scott Fitzgerald
> 
>  
> 
> “You know when they have a fishing show on TV? They catch the fish and then let it go. They don’t want to eat the fish, they just want to make it late for something.”
> 
> ― Mitch Hedberg
> 
>  
> 
> (Trigger warning for panic attack.)

When Shiro woke up the next morning, it was to the sound of quiet whimpering.  Terrified that Keith had been re-injured the night before, he shot up and carefully rolled Keith from his side to his back to examine him.

 

It was not that kind of whimpering.

 

“Keith?” Shiro asked, suffering from emotional whiplash.  “Are you touching yourself?”

 

Keith’s cheeks, already flushed, burned redder.

 

“I l-looked under the sheets at y-you,” he stammered.  “And then I didn’t want to wake you up.”

 

Shiro grinned.  “I cannot think of a nicer way to be woken up,” he promised.  “Is it okay if kiss you while you touch yourself?”  When Keith nodded, Shiro kissed his cheek and jaw.  “You can touch me whenever you like, so long as we’re in private.”

 

Shiro bit back a chuckle at the speed of Keith’s response—an eager hand instantly exploring his hips and thigh.  

 

“I didn’t know I liked legs so much,” Keith confessed.  “You look so strong here, and the hair is fuzzy and nice.”  

 

His touch was light and damn near a tickle.  He’d abandoned his cock in favor of exploration and the mood had turned to something very soft and sweet.  Shiro had to admit he liked it just as well.  It was so _Keith_ —gentle, curious, loving.  He kept his kisses slow and infrequent so as not to interrupt him, letting Keith take his time.

 

Eventually, Keith sighed a long, happy sigh, and placed his hands on Shiro’s face to better direct his kisses.  He kissed like it was a conversation of praise and adoration, like each pull of lip was a further explanation and point by point demonstration of what he’d learned about Shiro’s body and just how much he loved it.  Shiro was utterly lost in it, and when Keith finished he was breathless.

 

“Thank you, Keith.  I love you,” he said simply.  “I’m so happy you’re here.”  How was it so easy to be honest with him?  How was it he made the smallest thoughts so full of meaning?

 

“You’re beautiful,” Keith said earnestly, blushing in embarrassment, like he hadn’t just spent the last 10 minutes shamelessly memorizing Shiro’s body.

 

“You too,” Shiro said, and when Keith looked bashful and a little skeptical, he added “You’re gorgeous.  All of you,” he promised.  “I couldn’t believe it the night we met—you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, and you just fell into my arms.  I was so embarrassed,” he chuckled.  “You were naked and it was so hard not to stare.”

 

“Does that mean you wanted me?  To fuck, I mean,” Keith asked curiously.  

 

(And there was that simple honesty again.)

 

 Shiro nodded.  “Yes.  Very much.”

 

“Since _then_?” he said in shock.  

 

“You’re beautiful,” Shiro admitted, doing either a very good or very poor job of defending himself.

 

“But you never said anything,” Keith said, perplexed.  “If you wanted to fuck me back then, why didn’t you?”

 

Shiro knew what he meant—that Keith had been willing to do anything for him since the start—but it hurt a little.  “Do I seem like the kind of person who would do that?  It be taking advantage of you.  You were sick and vulnerable and needed help.  Just because I was attracted to you didn’t mean it was okay for me to do anything about it.”

 

Keith considered this.  “When _did_ it become okay?”

 

“I don’t know,” Shiro said, feeling sheepish.  “You became so precious to me in other ways, and you’ve been so honest with me about you feel...I guess I couldn’t go any longer without being honest as well and telling you how much you mean to me.  The sex part of this, well, it took me by surprise.  I didn’t think you’d feel this way about me.  I thought…,” he searched for words.

 

“But I told you about how I tried to learn sex for you,” Keith continued, still confused.

 

“I know,” Shiro said, now blushing, “but you had also said you didn’t know men could have sex together or love each other.  I didn’t think you actually wanted it—I just thought you’d do it because you knew _I_ wanted it, and I’d hate it if the sex was only for me.  I never want to do things with you that don’t make you happy, too.”

 

Keith smiled.  “I want to.  I promise.  I knew I wanted to since I learned you’d had it with Adam.”

 

And now it was Shiro’s turn to be stunned.

 

“Really?” he asked hoarsely.

 

“Mmhmm,” Keith said, kissing his cheek.  “I figured it out because I was jealous.  I touched myself to practice being good for you, just in case you ever wanted to have sex with me.  It felt really good, but only when I pretended it was you touching me.”

 

Once again, dead and buried.

 

“Fuck,” Shiro trembled.  “How did you do it?  What did you want me to do?”

 

“I-it wasn't anything f-fancy,” Keith stammered, suddenly ducking his head down.  “I didn’t kn-now about e-everything.”

 

Cute.  

 

“I dreamed about doing things with you,” Shiro smiled.  Keith peeped up at him. 

 

 _Painfully_ cute.

 

“You came to my bed and wanted me to fuck inside you.  It was so good.  I loved the sounds you made for me.”

 

“What if _I’m_ not like that?!” Keith cried in horror, a new fear rapidly spinning into place.

 

“You’re already better,” Shiro promised, hurrying to reassure him.  “Am I better?”

 

“Yes...,” Keith said slowly, clarity in his eyes.  

 

“And the imagining was still good, wasn't it?  So, tell me what I did for you, and let me make it better,” Shiro smiled.

 

And he did.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

For some reason, Shiro had been embarrassed to find their breakfast set out for them in his study, quite cold and clearly having waited for them for sometime.  He explained to Keith how it meant Lance McClain had known not to summon them, and he might have come by their room (their!) and heard something, but to Keith that was expected and normal.  They were lovers now!  He was proud of it, and maybe it was a little embarrassing to have perhaps been heard, but everything else was very wonderful and worth mentioning. 

 

Except, of course, to Pidge.

 

Keith hadn’t seen her since Shiro’s confession, opting instead to screech-yell and assure her he was without injury and not to worry.  He felt guilty about it, like he’d been lying to her.  He hadn’t of course—he would never lie to Pide—but it was too much to talk about, especially since she would ask him questions he wasn't prepared to ask himself.

 

(And _she_ would make him answer them, while he could just put them away until later.)

 

He kissed Shiro goodbye (!!) and promised to return within 1 hour and 50 minutes before heading down to the beach for his swim, and the warmth of Shiro’s lips stayed with him all the way to the sand.  It left, however, once he removed and folded his clothes, and he finally had to face his fears (and best friend) as he waded into the water.

 

“Oh my barnacles, you’re in love,” Pidge said in disgust the second she saw him.  “It’s just,” she waved her hand, “all over your face.”

 

(This was a confusing thing to hear.)

 

Keith touched his face, searching for the difference, and Pidge splashed him in annoyance.

 

“It’s your expression, you dumb fish.  You’re all gooey-eyed and _gross_.”

 

“Sorry?” Keith offered.  

 

“No you’re not,” Pidge sighed.  “Okay, so tell me about it.  You must have confessed or you’d be pining and mopey.”

 

Keith blushed shyly.  “We’re lovers now.”

 

“Oh sweet Neptune,” Pidge groaned.  “Please tell me you mean _human_ lovers.”

 

Keith wrapped his arms around himself.  This was the bad part.  “I know you’re not happy with me,” he said quietly.  

 

“No.  No no no,” Pidge hissed.  “You don’t get to be sad.  My best friend is in love with a human and he’s already on shore and I know it means you’re fucking leaving me and you don’t get to be sad about it when you’re _choosing_ to stay up there.”

 

“Pidge, that’s just the thing.  I don’t know what I’m doing,” Keith hurried.  “Isn’t it worse if I don’t stay?  He said he’s happy just _being_ with me.  I _can’t_ leave now.  He’ll probably fall out of love with me eventually, and I can leave then, right?”  

 

“You’re a shitty lover,” Pidge said, beyond disgusted.  “He might be human, but even humans can love the same person for _decades_ or even their whole lives.  Are you prepared for that?  What happens if you stay human for that long?  You’ll get old, Keith.  You’ll cut off half your life.  You’re not even 50 yet!  You’re practically a _child_.”

 

Keith lifted his chin defiantly.  “I’m 49 and three quarters.  That’s old enough.”

 

“Old enough to decide to _die_ ?” Pidge countered.  “What happens when you come back to the sea old?  Everyone will have worried about you for years and then you’ll show up shrivelled and brokenhearted.  Your mom has been asking about you, by the way, not that you’re worried about how she’ll handle her only child disappearing for however many decades it takes for her son’s lover to grow sick of him.  And what about _him_ ?  If he’s so great that you’d throw your life away on him, do you really think he’d be okay with you doing all this?  Do you really think he’d be okay knowing you’re planning to just _wait_ until he breaks your heart?”

 

Keith couldn’t look at her.  He knew he was crying and he had nothing to say in his defense expect to whisper “I don’t think I can leave him.”

 

Pidge snorted and ground her teeth.  “Whatever happened to his hand, huh?  I’ve been slaving over that thing for weeks—thanks for letting me get all the metal for that, by the way—and now what.  Are you even going to give it to him?”

 

“Of course I am,” Keith said.  “I—”

 

“ _How_?” Pidge persisted.

 

“I don’t know,” Keith admitted.  “I’ll think of something.”  Pidge almost said more, but then she growled and looked away.  She was angry and hurt.  Keith wanted to apologize, to comfort her, but he didn’t know what he could say.  “I wasn't sure if you’d still give it to me,” he admitted.

 

And that made Pidge look truly broken.  “Did you really think I was that kind of friend?  Of course I’m still going to give it to you.”

 

He’d made it worse.  Of course he’d made it worse.

 

“Pidge…,” he whispered hoarsely.  “I’m sorry.”

 

Pidge stared her hurt and fury at him, silently begging him to say more, but what more could he say?

 

“Fine!” she cried, throwing her hands up.  “If you’re so in love, if you’re so certain, don’t go swimming tomorrow.  Stay dry all day.  It’s going to happen eventually, anyway.  You’ll have some kind of accident, and the tub will break, and you won’t be able to get to the beach and get wet at all.  It _will_ happen, because life isn’t so perfect that you won’t have everything screw up for a day.  Then you’ll be stuck.  And you should do it now, because otherwise what happens if you get caught?  So you really are that fucking certain, become a human _tomorrow_.”

 

When Keith still said nothing, she choked down an angry cry.  “I’ll leave that stupid hand under a sunken log past the far rocks,” she said, pointing to edge of the cove.  “Get it yourself.”  She dove under the water with a sob and ignored Keith’s cries for her to come back.

 

Keith tried to swim after her, but his legs were pathetic in water, and he knew he’d never reach her.  He screech-yelled himself hoarse, floating and shaking and sobbing, until he knew his allotted time was up.  Then he returned to the shore, dressed, and climbed back to the castle, gut heavier with each step.

 

Nothing she had said was wrong.  Not a single word.  But, he hadn’t even asked her half the questions he needed to, and what she’d said wasn't the thing that tore deepest at his heart: he was a creature of the sea.  He had no choice to but to stay as a human, for even though Shiro loved him, how could he not be afraid of a merman?  And even if  the knowledge of Keith’s true identity didn’t frighten him, Shiro could not handle visiting him on the shore.  No, Pidge was right about him.  He was a coward who had only one option to take, and he was too afraid to do it.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

“Congratulations on popping Puppy’s cherry,” Lance said the minute he entered Shiro’s study.  The prince, mortified, began to stammer about what might or might not have actually happened and Lance waved aside his ramblings.  “No need to brag in detail,” he told him cheerfully, making the poor man stammer harder.

 

“Anyway,” Lance said, ignoring the chaos he’d created, “I was going to wait a few weeks to see how you were doing post-fancy people, but then I realized you’re an adult so why not just tell you now?  Adam is considering suggesting Arizo be the main port for western trade.  I guess everything between here and Rescen on Fornia needs major repairs.  Are you feeling up to the duties?  Because Adam was impressed with how well you’re doing—temper aside—and frankly so am I.”

 

“Wow,” Shiro said, blinking, “that’s a lot to process.  But, I know he wouldn’t suggest that just to make me feel better about being ‘important’ again, so if Arizo is the best choice for the kingdom, then absolutely.  If it turns out I can’t handle it, I’m sure there is a lord or three just itching for the chance to prove themselves and make their fortune who would die for the chance to manage a port.”

 

Now it was Lance’s turn to blink.  “Huh.  That is both extremely mature and somehow very obvious.  Shall I write to him?”

 

“No, I’ll do it,” Shiro said, reaching for a fresh sheet of paper.  He started to write, felt Lance’s stare, and looked up.  “What?” he said, suspecting something and (correctly) annoyed.

 

“My little prince has grown up overnight,” Lance said through thick emotion.

 

“Lance, I will throw this inkpot at your head.”

 

“Can you even hit me with your left arm?” he asked innocently.  

 

Turns out he could.

 

Lance left, laughing hard and covered in ink.  It had been very worth it, but the outfit was probably ruined.  He hurried to his room to strip and see if at least the undershirt could be salvaged.  

 

What a fantastic day!  Shiro looked better than he had in years—since well before the accident, even.  And to think: he owed it all to Puppy.  Dammit, there came the guilt.  Was it really so wrong to want to investigate the kid?  It was for Shiro’s own good and might even be for Keith’s safety.  On the other hand, was it actually possible to investigate him?  Sure, his background was weird, and _he_ was _very weird_ , but so what?  If he was what it took to help get Shiro better, then did it really matter where he came from or why?

 

And really: what right did Lance have to gamble with Shiro’s happiness anyway?  

 

No—let Puppy be weird and let Shiro write his letters, and let this damn ink stain not set too quickly.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

Shiro was proud of himself—both for writing the letter and for his left-handed aim—and combining all of that with waking up next to Keith meant he was in a very good mood.  It also meant he was all the more surprised when Keith quietly knocked on the door, eyes tear-stained, to ask if he could talk to Shiro whenever he “had some time”.

 

(As if Shiro didn’t always have all the time in the world for Keith.)

 

“Of course, of course,” Shiro urged.  He left his chair immediately to pull Keith in a hug.  “What’s wrong?”

 

Keith melted into the embrace and simply stayed there for a while, breath hitching a bit until it slowly calmed.  Shiro held him quietly, rubbing his back and occasionally kissing his hair—still wet from his swim—as he waited.  Finally, Keith spoke.

 

“I remembered something,” he whispered.

 

Shiro’s heart lurched, a hundred fears rising unbidden.  

 

“I hurt my friend.  I hurt her very badly because I didn’t trust her to be the good person I _know_ she is.  She’s incredible.  She stayed with me through everything, even when I was selfish and I made her cry.  She _never_ cries.  And I… Shiro, she was _sobbing_.  And the worst part is, I think she’s still my friend.”

 

Shiro held him tighter.  “Do you know where she is?  Do you want to try to find her?”  He hated himself for being a little afraid of the answer, afraid of what it might mean for them.

 

But Keith shook his head.  “I want to stay here.  I realized that.  I can’t… I can’t not be with you, Shiro.”

 

“And finding her would mean leaving me?” Shiro asked softly.  “I’ll go with you, you know.  Anywhere you need me to, I’ll go.”

 

Keith shook his head again.  

 

Shiro kissed his forehead.  “If you ever change your mind about that, let me know, but for now, it’s okay if you need to cry some more.”

 

Keith pulled back and wiped at his eyes.  “No, crying is awful.”

 

“It is,” Shiro agreed, “but it helps sometimes.”

 

“Yes, but I think I’ve had enough for now.  Can I kiss you?” he asked.

 

Shiro assured him he could.  He also asked if Keith would like to go riding, and Keith very much did, so they left.  By evening he was calmer, though still deeply sad, and when Shiro suggested they turn in early, he readily agreed.

 

They curled up together, and Keith read aloud (slowly, and with many corrections) until the candle burned low.  Keith set the book on nightstand and then bolted upright and looked down at Shiro in guilty shock.

 

“I forgot about the sex,” he apologized.

 

Shiro swallowed back a smile.  “We don’t need to have it every night, Keith.  Were you wanting it?”

 

“People have a lot of sex,” Keith said seriously.

 

“Some people do,” Shiro agreed, “but we can have as much or as little as you like.”

 

Keith considered this.  “But what about you?  Do you want it?”

 

Now it was Shiro’s turn to consider.  “What I want right now is to comfort you, because you are still sad.  If that means you want sex, I will be happy to have it with you.  If you want something different—that’s fine, too.”

 

Keith chewed on his lip before pulling off his nightshirt.  “I want to cuddle with you, naked,” he explained.  “I feel closer when we’re naked.”

 

Shiro definitely understood that, and he removed his own nightclothes readily before pulling Keith to his chest.  Keith relaxed with sigh.

 

“It really doesn’t bother you, does it,” Shiro marvelled, awed at the way Keith snuggled in closer.  “My stump.”

 

Keith glanced up at Shiro.  “Should it?  It’s your body, and I love you.”

 

“It bothers me,” Shiro said sadly.  “It’s ugly, and the missing arm still hurts sometimes.”

 

At that Keith propped himself up to better examine the ruins of Shiro’s arm.  He touched it carefully, thoughtfully, and then kissed it. 

 

“I’m sorry that it hurts,” he said sincerely, “but it isn’t ugly, not to me.”  He looked as if he was going to say more, but instead he leaned over to kiss Shiro properly and then pulled back again.  “Did you know that sometimes you can tell that someone is good just by looking at them?  You’re good, Shiro.  You’re very good.”

 

“Aren’t I supposed to be comforting you?” Shiro smiled.  

 

“You are,” Keith promised, snuggling back down.

 

Shiro stroked his hair and Keith hummed his song quietly.  It was peaceful, and just a touch melancholy.  Shiro missed music.  He would have liked playing that song in particular.  It felt comfortable—like it matched something in him, and music had always helped him say the things that he could not (or perhaps should not) with words.  There many things a prince should not say, after all. 

 

Well, perhaps it didn’t matter so much anymore.  He wasn't much of a prince these days. 

 

(He would still like to play though, sometimes.)  

 

He closed his eyes and let himself drift in it, savoring Keith’s voice and pushing aside any taint of mourning, letting it simply be Keith’s song.

 

Shiro shot up, back rigid.  It wasn't Keith’s song.  It was his.  He had written it.

 

“Shiro?  What’s wrong?” Keith asked in alarm.  He’d been jostled pretty badly when Shiro sat up and had apparently nearly been asleep, judging from the way he rubbed his eyes.

 

He was adorable.  He was adorable and unbearably precious and somehow from the ocean and Shiro almost almost _almost_ knew something about him.  It made his heart pound with an emotion he could not identify.  Maybe fear, maybe joy, maybe both. 

 

“Shiro?” Keith prompted again, looking more concerned.

 

God, what to say?  Do I know you?  Do you know me?  Where did you really come from?  Why does it feel like I’ve been looking for you?

 

“I think I almost remembered something important,” Shiro settled on saying, and Keith’s concern smoothed into something softer.  He sat up to kiss him.

 

It was chaste, a gentle meeting of lips, but Shiro found himself longing to pour more into it.  He _did_ want sex, he wanted to take Keith fully and to get as close as he could, as close as he _needed_ , because he was suddenly standing on a precipice and he didn’t trust himself to look over the edge alone.  But, he held himself back.  Keith had yawned at the end of the kiss, and he would still be there to love and hold in the morning.

 

A rush of calm flowed back over him and Shiro laid down again easily, safe in the harbor of Keith’s arms.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

Keith had cried in his sleep.  Shiro hadn’t been able to catch most of the words, but Keith apologized to his friend and, confusingly, once to Hero.  He’d said he should have swum faster, and whether that was for his friend or for Hero, Shiro didn’t know.  He soothed Keith as best he could and Keith calmed without waking up.  It served to inspire him.  Keith had remembered something; he could, too.

 

Which was all well and good, but once he actually got up in the morning, he was at a loss as to how to actively attempt to work on his mind and memory.  It was intimidating enough that he opted instead to sort and answer letters and to balance accounts—something which he knew Lance mistakenly attributed to “getting some”.  He declined to correct the valet.

 

Oddly, Keith declined to go swimming.  He stated he wanted to practice reading, and that made enough sense that Shiro didn’t question further.  Keith probably just wanted to stay close to Shiro, and it was a sentiment Shiro echoed.  Just being near Keith calmed and strengthened him.  In fact, after a few hours he felt strong to explore his old room to see if that helped his memory, so he excused himself for the afternoon.  Keith looked curious when Shiro requested the privacy, but he smiled and was happy enough to keep reading.

 

Shiro’s easy confidence lasted him all the way into his room.  And then he felt like an idiot.

 

What the hell was there for him to find in his room anyway?  The only reason he’d left it in the first place was because it looked over the ocean, not because there was something wrong with the room itself.  Plus, most of his belongs had been transferred to the new room.  What a fantastic use of his time.

 

He wandered the room, looking around on the off chance there was something of importance tucked away on a shelf.  Huh.  The red flute.  He picked it up.  He had no idea where he’d gotten it, but that was hardly surprising.  There was a lot he didn’t remember about music—it was too closely linked to the loss of his arm, and his mind had closed itself against the pain.  It was a beautiful instrument, though, and it _felt_ important, like must have been tied to a memory.  At the very least it must have been expensive.  Keith had really liked it, too.  What was it Keith had said about it…?  ‘Why did he still have it?’  A fair question.  Why _had_ he kept something he could no longer use, would never be _able_ to use again?  The thought soured him, and he put the flute back.  

 

Maybe he should give it away.  Hell, maybe he should it to Keith.  Actually, one further—why not just ask Keith how he knew Shiro’s song in the first place?  What was Shiro trying to do here—surprise him with a returned memory like it was a goddamn gift?  But, it was uncomfortable.  There was something wrong about Keith knowing the song.  He’d never played it for anyone.  Or wait—had he?  To the sailors during the war?  He was almost certain he’d played the flute for them, and he had rarely played for _anybody_.  What if...what if Keith had heard it then?  What if Keith had been there, had been a fellow sailor?  God, that would make so much sense! 

 

Shiro’s heart swirled in excitement.  It fit!  It fit so well.  Keith could have been on the ship with him and then been thought lost to sea.  He knew the seas, both around Arizo and beyond, and if he was a sailor he could have come from _any_ island, and no one from Arizo would have known him!  And what was it he’d first said—that ‘Hero’ was ‘alive’?  If they’d been on the same ship, Keith might have considered Shiro to be a hero of some kind, and would be surprised that Shiro had survived.  And then—when Shiro had introduced himself—he hadn’t believed that was Shiro’s name, and he didn’t know Shiro was a prince.  On a ship he would have heard him called Leftenant Shirogane.

 

Keith would have been shipwrecked at the same battle.  He might have washed up on the shore of a tiny island, marooned for a year until he found or made a raft and somehow floated up to Arizo.  It fit.  Maybe not perfectly, but it _fit_.

 

Shiro hurried from his room, ecstatic and wild with delight.  He couldn’t wait to tell Keith.

 

When he got back to his study, Keith was gone.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

When Lance had stopped by Shiro’s study to ask him a question, he found the room empty except for Puppy, who was clutching a book while his knee bounced nervously.  He’d informed Lance that Shiro had left for his old room 3 minutes and 28 seconds ago, or maybe 5 minutes and...he’d looked frightened as he counted and recounted, muttering numbers under his breath, before admitting he wasn't sure, but it was between 3 and 18 minutes.  

 

“Hey, you okay kid?” Lance had asked, to which Puppy had declared he was fine, he just wasn't going to be swimming today, and it made him a little nervous to “change his routine”.  

 

“Why the change?” Lance had said, crossing his arms.  “Did Shiro ask you not to swim?”  He was going to have strong words with the man if he was abusing Puppy’s adoration.  If Puppy wanted to go swimming, Puppy was going to go swimming, even if Uncle Lance had to carry him to the beach himself.  

 

Puppy had insisted Shiro was not to blame and then sputtered several useless excuses of his own reasons for neglecting his daily swim, but Lance was having none of it, and a few minutes later (no doubt somewhere between 3 and 18), the two of them were at the water, sitting on the sand.

 

“Well?”  Lance said meaningfully, gesturing to the waves.  “Aren’t you getting in?”

 

Puppy squirmed nervously, and it suddenly occurred to Lance that maybe the kid didn’t want to be naked in front of him, and then it occurred to Lance that there might well be hickies he didn’t want Lance to see, but before he could devise a tactful verbal retreat, Keith abruptly shot up, ripped off his clothes with a frenzied energy, and dove into the water.

 

“I’m sorry,” Keith said calmly when he surfaced.  “I remembered something a friend had told me, and it made me panic a little.”

 

“You remember a lot more than you say, don’t you,” Lance said.  It was not a question, and it was also not an accusation.  It was simply the truth, and Lance didn’t know how he hadn’t realized it sooner.  

 

Puppy nodded.  “I remember everything,” he said quietly.  He looked sad, and it didn’t suit him.  Lance tried to lighten the mood.

 

“So, what’s the big problem?  Did you kill someone?  Are you a Galra spy?” he asked nonchalantly.  

 

Keith looked genuinely startled by the suggestions and he hurriedly shook his head.  “No, no, it’s not like _that_.  I’m just...not this,” he said, gesturing to himself vaguely, which was not helpful to Lance but apparently meant a lot to Keith.

 

“Well, do you want to be?” Lance asked.  

 

“I...I don’t know.”

 

“But you want to be with him,” Lance finished.  

 

Keith was crying a little when he nodded.  Dammit.  Lance had made a puppy cry and he was going to hell.

 

“Well, if you’re not a murderer or a spy, Shiro’s not going to have a problem with you,” Lance said, only half-joking because he was pretty damn sure Shiro wouldn’t have a problem anyway.  “So, I guess the question is does it hurt _you_ if you don’t tell him what you remember, ‘cause he loves you and he won’t ever, ever make you tell him _anything_.”

 

Puppy looked a little sad when he smiled, but he _did_ smile, and he was calmer than before.  “You’re a good friend, Lance McClain,” he said.

 

“Damn right,” Lance grinned.  “I’m the best.”  He got up from the sand and brushed the sand from his pants.  “You going to be swimming for a while?”  He grunted confirmation to Keith’s nod.  “Have a nice swim.  I’ll see you this evening,” he said, and Puppy smiled eagerly in response and then flopped back in the waves.  

 

He’d been worried Keith might need a lifeguard, but the graceful backstroke Keith made showed he was perfectly at home in the sea and even if he benefited from a good lecture from Uncle Lance every now and then, he did not need a babysitter, thank you very much.  

 

God damn that kid was adorable.  And had hickies on his hip that Lance really, _really_ didn’t need to know about.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

The ocean didn’t feel like home, not quite.  How could it, when Pidge wasn't there to tease him and share his excitement over his latest human discovery?  He sighed, indulging in melancholy.  He’d heard before that home was people, not a place, and that fit the moment.  He wondered bitterly if that meant he’d destroyed more than a friendship. 

 

No, no he hadn’t.  He knew that Pidge was still his friend, but they had repair work in their future (and possibly some grovelling, because he deserved it).  Provided he went back to the sea.

 

He knew he wasn't going back to the sea.

 

Fuck.

 

Okay, maybe he was, when he was older.  Should Shiro ever fall out of love with him (even the idea of it hurt so badly it squeezed the air from his lungs), or whenever Shiro died, or maybe if he still aged at the rate of a merman and it became too obvious he wasn't really human… Well, he’d return eventually.  Probably.

 

He did need to find a way to tell his mom, though.  Pidge would take care of that, he thought with pained gratitude.  She had a temper, but she wasn't cruel. 

 

(Unlike Keith, lately.)

 

Alright, not wallowing in that anymore.  Making a decision (even if it was only half a decision) felt good.  Knowing he would stay with Shiro felt even better.  Shiro.  He hugged himself.  It was ridiculous considering it was less than hour since he’d last seen him, but he missed Shiro already.  He couldn’t believe that such a beautiful, kind man loved him and wanted him.  He was probably grinning stupidly right now but he didn’t care.  Shiro was worth it, and he was making Shiro happy, and that was worth even more.   

 

The next hurdle was figuring out how to give Shiro the arm Pidge had made (which was another source of guilt, because she did all the work and now he didn’t know how he was going to pay her back, but he was not wallowing right now).  So long as he was out swimming, he might as well find the spot she was going to leave it.  He started out toward the place she’d mentioned.

 

Something didn’t feel right.

 

It didn’t feel _wrong_ , exactly.  Being back in deeper water was amazing, even if he was still very near the shore.  But, somehow, there was a prickle on the back of  his neck that made him anxious.  Maybe it was because it was so unnatural for swimming to be tiring?  He missed his tail.

 

Soon enough he was out past the far point and he began diving.  Human eyes were practically useless underwater and the salt burned them, but it didn’t take too many attempts before he saw what looked like a log.  

 

It was further down than he would have liked.

 

Oh well.

 

Taking a deep breath, Keith plunged beneath the surface and dove.  Fuck.  It was far down.  There was a pressure to water that he’d never needed to account for as a merman, and it frightened him a little because it _hurt_.  Still, he was getting fairly close to log.  Fuck, his lungs were pleading with him.  This was what it felt like to need air?  No wonder Shiro was terrified of water. 

 

He pushed the thoughts away and swam harder, fingers finally brush against the log.  It was definitely the right place, and for all he knew, Pidge had already left the arm.  He pushed just a little deeper and tried to look under the log, but it was too dark to see much.

 

(Useless human eyes.)

 

He reached out to feel under the log, and of course human hands were useless, too, because he couldn’t pick up on any shifts or vibrations in the water.  He’d have to fumble around as best he could, and that meant searching under the _whole_ log, Neptune curse it all.  

 

His lungs were aching, burning, and his eyes were screaming against the water and the pressure in his ears was pushing out all thought but the arm was here, he knew it, and he wasn't sure if he could force himself down here again, and there there there—something metal and _heavy_ and fuck was it stuck?  He braced his legs against the log and pulled hard and thank Neptune, the arm came free.  Fuck _fuck_ his lungs hurt and he’d been underwater for too long, it was cold and burning and humans were not made for the sea.  The precious brightness of the surface was so far away and he pushed off the log and up, up, in a rush and air, thank Neptune, thank _everything_ , air air air.  He was choked on it, gasping and shaking, and his neck hurt, hurt where his gills should be, and he slammed his free hand over his throat in a panic, feeling for where the slits would appear.  

 

Nothing.

 

Keith shuddered in relief.  The itch under his skin was worse now, like a phantom of his mer body was just beneath his surface, curious and restless, hoping for a chance to get out.  He would not be swimming in deep water again anytime soon—that’s for damn sure.  It was something to consider, though, Keith realized as he treaded water, trying to soothe the ache in his lungs with deep breaths.  There might be other triggers to release the transformation without his say so.  Perhaps it wasn’t specific to (almost) drowning, and it was just a near death thing in general?  Perhaps his body would revert when he died?  Okay, time for happier thoughts.  He had the arm.

 

Clutching the metal limb reassuringly to his chest, Keith turned around to begin his swim back to shore.  And stopped.  Why was there movement in the water?  Fear slid down his spine.  If it was a shark or other predator, he could not outswim it.  It was trashing, churning the water to foam.  It was sinking, a hand flailing, it was—

 

“ _Shiro_!” Keith screamed.  

 

It was Shiro in the water, Shiro fighting and sinking and too far away and you _never, never, never try to save a drowning human, they panic and fight you_ and the words of release dropped from Keith’s lips without thought, without hesitation.  Agony ripped him under the surface as his bones shattered and crushed themselves and his legs melted together.  The skin of his neck peeled back into slits that tore down to his throat.  Black spots burst over his vision, threatening to drag him into blissful nothingness, but he fought desperately to stay conscious.  Shiro needed him.  Shiro needed him and that was all that mattered.

 

A few thrusts of his tail and he was there, cradling Shiro to his chest and pulling him back to the surface.

 

“You’re okay, I’m here, you can breathe again, Shiro,” Keith murmured.  He didn’t know if Shiro could hear him—he was shaking so hard.  “You came for me, didn’t you?  You saw me struggling.  I’m okay, love, you got me.  We’re almost to shore, baby, we’re almost to shore.”

 

A moment more and they were in the shallows.  Shiro was strong enough to prop himself up, and Keith rubbed his back as he knelt and gasped.  Shiro was okay.  He’d gotten there in time.  Shiro was okay.

 

(Thank Neptune.)

 

And then—Shiro turned and stared back at him with dazed horror, eyes traveling from pointed ears, to fanning gills, to waving tail.

 

“Keith,” he said hoarsely, “what _are_ you?”

 

It was ruined.  Everything was ruined.

 

Stomach turned to ice, eyes trembling with tears, Keith thrust the metal arm into Shiro’s lap.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.  He fled to the sea, and no voice from the shore called after him. 

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

Lance heard the tangled cries even before the servant burst into the room, out of breath, to tell him there was something wrong with Prince Shirogane.  He was racing down the hall before they could finish their sentence.  Shiro was on his knees in the courtyard, dripping wet and alternating between choking gasps and scrambled sentences—addressed to Lance, despite the fact the valet had not been there to hear him.

 

“I saw him I saw Keith he went under he was under too long and I _couldn’t_ Lance, I couldn’t swim.  I tried I tried I tried fuck _fuck_ he’s gone he’s _gone_.”

 

“Shh, I’m here now, Shiro, I’m here.  Careful breath for me, that’s it.  Now, start over.  What happened to Keith?” Lance asked, voice steady despite his pounding chest.

 

“He’s gone, Keith’s gone, he left me and I didn’t tell him I should have I was so I just didn’t know and he’s gone Keith’s _gone_.”

 

Icy dread crept through Lance’s veins.  He knew Keith had been acting odd—odd even for him.  Shit.  Should he have stayed at the beach?  He definitely would have stayed if he’d known Shiro was planning to go there.

 

“Shiro, Shiro?  Slow down,” Lance said, trying to making eye contact with Shiro’s unfocused, wild gaze.   “Where has Keith gone?”

 

“The ocean.  He went back to the ocean,” Shiro whispered.  He was shaking and sweating.

 

Did that… did that mean Keith had drowned?   _Had Shiro just witnessed Keith drown?!_

 

“Where’s my arm?”  Shiro asked suddenly, whirling around and searching the ground.  “Lance, where’s my arm?”

 

Lance froze solid.

 

No.  No no no not this again, _please_ not this nightmare again.

 

“My arm is gone!  I had it I had it he gave me my arm and I lost it Lance where’s my arm?!”  Shiro was screaming again.

 

“For god’s sake, someone get Dr. Roberts,” Lance hissed at the group of terrified servants that had gathered.  All of them remembered the nights Shiro had woken in a panic, searching for his missing limb.

 

He tried to calm Shiro, but the prince was deaf to nearly everything he said.  Lance gathered what information he could and quietly ordered servants to comb the shore and deploy whatever boats were available to search farther out.  He desperately hoped this a rescue mission, not a recovery party, but his hopes vanished when a servant returned carrying Keith’s bundle of clothes with him.  If the clothes were on land, Keith was still in the water.  He wouldn’t have _left_ his clothes—that would have meant leaving his watch.  

 

Shiro’s panicked confusion continued in a circle, pleading first for someone to rescue Keith, then screaming for Keith to come back, and lastly pleading for Lance to help him find his arm, over and over again.  By the time Dr. Roberts arrived, Lance could practically recite Shiro’s cries for him.  He explained the situation to the doctor in hushed tones.

 

“Please, just let him sleep,” Lance begged.  He hated that his voice cracked. 

 

Dr. Roberts pulled a familiar vial from his bag, and Shiro thrashed when it was brought over to him.  It took three men to hold him down before they able to pour some of the liquid into his mouth.  Lance doubted he’d swallowed much, but the drug was potent and soon took effect anyway.  

 

The prince was carried with some difficulty back to his room and once the others had left to give them some privacy, Lance tucked Keith’s watch into Shiro’s hand.

 

“He’ll come back to me,” Shiro mumbled.  “He said he loves me.  He wants to stay.”

 

He fell asleep clutching the watch to his chest.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

_He dreamed again of drowning.  There was blood and shadows and gunpowder and down down down, cold and pressing, his arm on fire._

_And there was Keith._

_A flash of red and a swarm of black hair.  Teeth that ripped at the ropes.  Panic in deep eyes.  He was on his back, floating.  Someone near him was crying._

_Don’t die, Hero, don’t die.  We’re almost home.  Just a little farther.  Please don’t die.  I want to hear you play again.  We’re almost home._

 

He woke up with tears running down his face.  Keith never did get to hear him play again.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …….yes, I was mean this chapter. ;^; If it makes you feel any better, I cried a bit writing the Pidge scene. And then again in the last two parts.
> 
>  
> 
> This chapter was an absolutely bitch to write, and I scrapped a ton of it and started over, and then ignored it for a while in favor of other things, and then felt guilty about ignoring it, and then eventually figured out a better structure for it and now I like it okay. I almost skipped the first scene, but then I decided our boys deserved a soft & fluffy morning after. 
> 
>  
> 
> Lance gives up on investigating pretty much immediately, doesn’t he? Lmao. He can’t resist the cuteness that is Fish Keef. Also, this is now the AU where Klance exists, but it is platonic and Lance has adopted his fishy son and protects his innocence from Shiro’s Lustful Intentions. You know, instead of Shiro for some freaking reason adopting a 16 year old when he’s 20-21. Okay, running away from the discourse now.
> 
>  
> 
> Keefy is crying in his sleep not just because of Pidge, but also he loves Shiro so much that he’s feeling worse about not saving his arm, and for plot purposes. Poor Shiro.
> 
>  
> 
> Shiro got so close to figuring things out on his own, lmao. I mean, we really can’t blame him for not guessing Keith’s a merman since, you know, Shiro doesn’t know those are real. So, all considering, his conclusion is really good!
> 
>  
> 
> We get backstory next chapter!!!!! Yay!!!!! And a sketch from yours truly, lol. Lucky you guys. I have a lot of the next part done already ‘cause I was working on chapter 13 instead of 12… *cough cough* What can I say? Chapter 12 was haaard and chapter 13 looked like more fun. But, before I finish chapter 13, I am working on something for Plance Smut week, so I gotta finish that first. O_O 
> 
>  
> 
> By the way! I have determined there will be two follow-up mini-fics to this story--first will be Krolia & Heath (Keith’s dad) and then a Pidge & Lance chapter. Both will have smut. :3 I am usually such a smutty girl but so far… this has been a fairly tame fic??? By my standards at least, lol. And then there will be two chapters of F/M smut?!?! Who even am I anymore? *stares solemnly at the sea and contemplates dicks* There will still be another smut scene between our disaster prince and dumb fish though, no worries. I can’t talk about Keith’s mer!cock and then not show it in action, amirite? You guys deserve mer!cock, and I mean that in the best possible way.
> 
>  
> 
> Do you like that Keith is way older than Shiro in this? Because fuck the antis, that’s why. Right, right. Time to get away from the discourse again, sorry. But yeah. His age served zero plot purpose; I’m just petty.
> 
>  
> 
> Last piece of news: I want to do Kinktober, lmao. We’ll see how much of that actually happens (I’m itching to play WoW again), but I have reviewed the list, selected which kink to do, and decided if it will be Sheith or Plance. Soooo I’m sure I’ll do a few days anyway, ‘cause I’m really excited about some of them.
> 
>  
> 
> I’m also really excited about Shiro the Hero. >_< I’ve got like half the first chapter written. And I waaaant to write moooore. 
> 
>  
> 
> I need this to be my full time job jfc. 
> 
> PS for the people tracking these things: "Rescen" on Fornia is short for Crescent City, because reasons.  
> PPS: Leftenant Shirogane is correct--went with the older spelling/word for Lieutenant.  
> 


	13. Let Me Sing You the Song of My People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn quite a bit about younger days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “The sea, the majestic sea, breaks everything, crushes everything, cleans everything, takes everything...from me.”
> 
> ― Corinne Bailey Rae

_Mama, is Papa very far away?_ Keith had only asked it once, back when he was very small.  Mers often left for long times. They swam for months and months.  Uncle Ulaz had once been gone for so long, Keith hadn’t recognized him when he swam into the home cave, and he had almost been frightened, but Papa had been gone for _very_ long, and Keith was not certain if he had ever seen him at all.

 

_Papa is dead, Little One._

 

It made sense.  

 

_He was killed by humans._

 

Mama had almost said more, but she turned away.  Keith had touched her hand. He did not miss his Papa, but Mama did.  He knew it without her telling him because the only songs she sang were sad.

 

 _Should I be scared of humans?_  Keith had asked.  He knew a little about them—they swam shallow and drowned easily.  That did not seem so scary.

 

Mama had sighed deeply.

 

_Are you afraid of sharks?_

 

He had nodded immediately.   Everyone was afraid of sharks, or at least until they were as big as Uncle Kolivan.  Little mers like Keith, though—they were wise to be afraid.

 

_Even the great spotted ones?  And the ones that swim to the mangroves?_

 

No, that would be silly, and he had shaken his head.  

 

 _It is like that, with the humans_ , Mama had explained.   _Some are very safe.  But, with sharks you can look and you can know, and you cannot with humans, and that is what makes them dangerous_.

 

Mama said nothing more, and Keith had never asked again.  He did not need to.

 

Papa was killed by humans he thought were safe.  

 

~*~*~

 

From the day he was born, Shiro was destined to love the sea.  He was born on the beach after all, his mother having gone for a walk and then unexpectedly going into labor several weeks early, just because Shiro wanted to go for a swim.  That was what his grandfather had told him anyway, and his grandfather had never lied.

 

Being born early, he was of course very small.

 

_You are too small for your name!  ‘Takashi Shirogane’? Why, you’re barely even ‘Shiro’!_

 

That was what Grandfather had said, and so that was his name whenever he was around friends.  It was how he’d learn to separate between friends and the people that were not-quite-friends, the ones that he must be polite to but were somehow “beneath” him.

 

Almost no one was a friend.

 

But, that was okay.  Not-quite-friends were good, too, and Shiro was never lonely on the ocean.  Grandfather taught him to swim and to row and to sail—and of the three, sailing was the best, and there was nowhere better to sail than off the coast of Grandfather’s favorite island, Arizo.

 

~*~*~

 

The first time Keith heard the noise he thought it must be a bird.  It came from the surface, after all, and nothing made music except for birds and whales and mers.  It didn’t sound like any bird Keith had ever heard before, though, and it sang so beautifully and for so long that the curious mer at last swam toward the shallows and peaked above the surface.  

 

It was not a bird.

 

With a gasp Keith dove deep, terrified that the human might have seen him.  The song continued undisturbed for as long as Keith could hear it. He did not stop swimming until he was leagues away.  

 

~*~*~

 

The beautiful song happened again.  It happened most days, and it carried far across the surface of the water.  Keith was curious, and he really, really wanted to get closer, but humans were dangerous.

 

(They were dangerous, but some of them were safe.)  

 

It was irritating not to know to which type of human the song belonged.

 

After a half cycle of the moon, Keith gave in to his curiosity.  He knew the human’s song did not start until mid morning, so he carefully swam under the cover of night into the little bay the human sang in and found a good spot to hide.  Luckily it turned out to be one of the days the human came, and it sailed into the cove, dropped the anchor from its little boat, and pulled out a shiny reed. The human wasn't singing at all!  Its fingers danced over the reed and the song came out of it like magic. It was hard to see from under the water, but Keith stayed low all the same.

 

After that, Keith made a habit of listening to the human’s song.  He didn’t always go to the cove, but he would swim by it and listen for a while, enjoying the sweet and lively sounds.  This was probably a safe human, Keith reasoned, if his heart was anything like his song, but Keith had no desire to test his theory.  He liked the song, and he left it at that.

 

He did follow the boat one time, curious to see where where the human lived.  It was on the large island, as Keith expected, and he heard an old man on the docks call the human Hero.  It was nice to know his name.

 

~*~*~

 

The only thing Shiro loved more than music was the sea, and it was a very near thing.  The only problem was that he hated playing in front of an audience, at least until he was satisfied with a piece.  It made perfect sense, then, to practice in privacy during his sails, and he had found a quiet cove on a tiny island well in sight of Arizo that fit his needs perfectly.  It was easily his favorite part of sumer.

 

~*~*~

 

Over the years, Keith learned that Hero only showed up during the summer months.  He migrated, Keith reasoned, like many birds and fish. Keith didn’t know where he went in the cold months, but he was probably happy there and that was fine.  Keith just liked that he played his song reed when he was nearby.

 

He played a lot of songs, and each summer they grew more complex.  Keith liked all of them, but he especially liked a little song that Hero repeated, one that had been from his first summer.  It was simple and bright and Keith liked to think that maybe it was the song that meant his name.

 

~*~*~

 

The summer Shiro was 17 he built a little hut for himself on the tiny island and made a small pier.  He liked the seclusion and after the death of his grandfather over the winter, he longed even more for privacy.  He spent nights on the island when he could.

 

~*~*~

 

Hero had grown very beautiful.  Keith had been content to be nearby and listen before, but now he preferred to sneak in closer to watch the human play.  He hadn’t known humans could be beautiful, but it made sense. Hero was special. He was beautiful and the music he made was beautiful and the little dwelling he had made was...not beautiful.  Perhaps it was to a human? Keith had watched him work on it with interest. It must not have been a home cave—humans made many kinds of buildings, after all—as he rarely slept in it, and when the seasons changed he migrated the same as always.  

 

It was a habit or hobby or something like that, Keith decided, after watching Hero work on his building every summer.  It was interesting enough to watch, but mostly he liked it when Hero played his song reed.

 

~*~*~

 

Shiro’s sad attempt at carpentry improved a bit every year, although the majority of his time was spent repairing the damage from winter storms and he made no real progress.  He had no particular goal, so it didn’t matter. It was something to do. More and more he was looking for something to do, something to truly throw himself into, and the demands of a crown prince’s life were time-consuming but ultimately unsatisfying.  He missed his grandfather. He knew he was being indulged when he made his yearly pilgrimage to Arizo, and he never failed to cherish the trip.

 

And then, the winter he turned 22, he met someone who made the summer no longer the brightest part of his year.  

 

He met Adam.

 

~*~*~

 

Something had happened in Hero’s life.  That was for certain. But what? His songs had changed.  They had been cheerful and simple as a child, and then sadder for a time, and then gradually grew warmer again.  Now, though? Dreamy, sporadic, lively, melancholy—all at the same time.

 

He sighed a lot now, too.  

 

It was worse(?) whenever he brought pieces of paper with him.  He would stare at them for long periods of time before playing again.  The papers must have been inspiring, but Keith failed to see how. Perhaps they had drawings on them?  Or the human scratching symbols? Careful scrutiny (difficult from a distance) revealed that the papers were not always the same.  Keith consulted his friend Pidge (who knew much more about humans than he did) and she told him the scratches were letters, like on the sides of ships, and humans used them to communicate over great distances as they could not screech-yell.  Fascinating! It solved the mystery, and wasn't it quite nice really? Perhaps that was why Hero had been sad before—there was a human he’d missed from his winter months, and now he could reach them all the year round. How happy he must be to have learned his letters!  Keith was very proud of him.

 

When the summer drew to a close, Keith thought briefly how nice it would be if Hero could write letters to him, too.

 

But that was just silly.

 

~*~*~

 

 

It had been the best winter of Shiro’s life.  He and Adam had spent considerable time together both publicly and privately, and all of it had been utterly enrapturing.  His siblings loved Adam and even his parents approved. But, perhaps the most amazing thing of all was that he could _play_ for Adam.  It was easy, even.  Music was like baring his soul, and Adam drank it in, a kind and appreciative audience.  Adam played the piano and together they put on several duets for his family in the dark, winter evenings.  It was a magical time and it made the arrival of Adam’s first letter of the summer all the more jarring.

 

His first week on Arizo, Shiro sailed to his cove, picked up his flute, and hurled it into the water.

 

He sailed home again without so much as checking on his shack.

 

~*~*~

 

 

Keith was alarmed.  Hero had lost his song reed!  It hadn’t exactly looked like an accident, but it must have been.  Perhaps he’d lost his balance in the boat? But, no matter. It was an easy thing to search the bottom of the cove.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

His flute.  It was his flute.

 

Shiro stared at it in bewilderment.  He’d thrown it into the water. He would’ve sworn on his grandfather’s grave he’d thrown it into the water but here it was, sitting on his dock, silently judging him for his act of petulance.  

 

Confused, Shiro glanced around the cove.  “Hello?” he called. “Is anyone there?”

 

No one was.

 

(Of course.)

 

Shiro scratched the back of his head.  He’d been pretty angry yesterday. He hadn’t exactly _looked_ where he’d thrown it.  Carefully, and with a healthy dose of paranoia, he picked up the flute, aimed for the center of the water, and threw the instrument as far as he could.  He watched in satisfaction as it disappeared beneath the waves.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

The song reed was probably broken, Keith reasoned.  He tested his theory by attempting to play it himself, and the shameful screech that resulted from his efforts sent him swimming for the depths, away from the horrendous noise and the cacophony of protests from the surrounding sea gulls.

 

Poor Hero!  His heart must be broken without his song reed.  Keith would have to find him a new one.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

Shiro wasn't sure if he should laugh or scream but there was once again a flute on his dock.  It wasn't his old flute, either, and did that make it worse or better? He scoured the small island, verifying that he was indeed alone.  There was no evidence whatsoever that anyone else lived there, or had lived there, and so who the hell could have known what he’d done with his flute?  

 

 _The sea_ , his mind whispered, and he shuddered.

 

Or, perhaps, his grandfather’s ghost, come to quietly reprimand him for acting like a child after getting his heart broken by a boy.  That was actually comforting, and Shiro laughed sheepishly at the idea. His grandfather was superstitious. He would have told Shiro all manner of stories of what the sea does to people with broken hearts and it made him smile.  He put the flute to his lips, and began to play.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

It was Shiro’s song, his old song.  Keith’s heart was filled to overflowing with pride and delight.  The old reed was bad—the new one was good. It was worth every moment spent searching wrecks for a replacement.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

After that, flutes (or similar items) appeared on his dock from time to time.  Shiro chuckled at the ones that were simply pipes or in one case an eyeglass, but mostly they were flutes.  Some were broken or too damaged to play. All of them made him smile. He kept them in his shack and sometimes he spoke to his grandfather when in the solitude of his cove.  It comforted him in a way he hadn’t known he needed. His grandfather still looked after him, or the sea did, and at the start of every summer there was a pile of flutes and sundry items waiting for him.  He had long ago made up with Adam—it had been a silly misunderstanding, the sort young lovers are prone to—and life was very good.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

Pidge was not suitably impressed with Hero.  She fully admitted his songs were lovely, but she not willing to spend “all day” listening (as if he played the entire day!).  Still, whenever she found a song reed she would give it to Keith, and who could ask for more from a friend than that?

 

 

 

~*~*~

 

It was as if the ocean knew it was his last day on Arizo—the flute it had left for him was simply stunning.  It was in dire need of cleaning and repair, but that did little to hide its innate beauty. Whoever had created it was a craftsman of the rarest quality.  It was inlaid with bright red coral and the darkest of ebony, the contrasting colors forming intricate lattice work that erupted with flowers. He arranged to have it repaired and left it on Arizo.  It would be a treat to look forward to the next summer.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

His gift had pleased Hero!  Even from a distance, Keith could see the awe and reverence in his posture and motions.  It spurred him on to find even better reeds over the winter. He didn’t, of course. Nothing came close, but there was still a nice pile of offerings accumulated on the dock by late spring.

 

It was the first summer Hero did not come.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

Adam did not understand.  How could he? Though the man himself was plenty worthy, his station in life was beneath Shiro’s and so he could not fathom the responsibilities on Shiro’s shoulders.  No, a prince must lead during war. He could not ask his people to shed their blood in the name of the kingdom if he was not willing to do the same. Besides, he had the skills to be a sailor.  What good was it to sit back and let others die for him when he could offer so much to the cause?

 

“The kingdom needs a living prince, not a martyr, Takashi,” Adam had said.  “This is just your pride talking. If you do this, you do it without me.”

 

Some part of him hoped this was not their final fight but his heart knew better, and he cried that night.  

 

(But this time he didn’t throw his flute away.)

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

The humans were fighting, and it was frightening.  Their ships exploded with acrid sound and splinters and so many, many sailors drowned.  His mother warned him to never, _never_ save a drowning human: they were frightened by the appearance of merfolk and would fight back the same as they would a shark.

 

Keith soon learned that shipwrecks were terrifying when they still had bodies in them.   He stopped looking for song reeds. He hoped that Hero was safe in his winterlands. Perhaps wherever he lived, there was no fighting.  The fighting made no sense, after all. The humans fought over nothing whatsoever. These were people who lived on completely different islands, whose mates and pups were far away, who had enough food to eat and enough room to live.  But they killed each other all the same—so often and so viciously.

 

(And if they attacked the people from islands far away, how much harder would they fight against the mers that lived just below their water?)

 

The fighting continued, for moons and moons and moons.  Ships sank, sailors drowned.

 

(But Hero was a good sailor, a good swimmer.  Hero would not have drowned.)

 

And then one day he heard it.  It was not summer, it was not the cove, it was not anywhere near the island, but Keith knew it all the same.  Sweet and lively, bright and dancing—the sound of Hero’s reed.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

Pidge told him he was a fool to follow the boat, and he probably was.  It wasn't as if he could _see_ Hero: the ship was too large and had too many humans.  He couldn’t get close enough to safely look for Hero. But, most nights, the humans would play their instruments, and always always always Keith could hear him playing.  They were new songs, but Keith knew all the same: Hero was on that ship.

 

It was a great ship, one in a group of many.  Keith prayed to Neptune that Hero’s ship would be safe.  It sank all the same.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

It was quite the piece of irony that this was a victory, Shiro thought.  It was by far the bloodiest and longest battle of the war, and he had fought in many.  Half of the Terran fleet was lost and two-thirds of the Galran fleet. It spelled the end of the war.

 

And Shiro wasn't going to live to see it.

 

All of these thoughts took only a fraction of a second before he was pulled into the crushing water.  His arm and neck were caught tight in the rigging—it had fallen on him moments before as the mast broke.  He had no hope of freeing himself, but oddly he felt no panic. He was too shocked by it, too stunned by the knowledge of his imminent and inevitable death.  

 

But god then he saw them—his fellow sailors and comrades, his countrymen, drowning alongside him.  He saw their fear and struggle and limp and twisted bodies and blood blood their blood in the water, thick and crowding and he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, and something was there in the cold and what was pulling him?  Ropes, weeds, hands, blood, screaming muted by distance, and _he could see them dying_.  It was dark, and darker and colder and the canons did not cease and his arm was on fire.  

 

Hands, hair, claws.  Claws...? He passed out before he could figure what that meant.

 

~*~*~

 

Keith couldn’t find him.  The world was on fire and the giant, metal tubes were exploding and shattering the ships and Hero’s was _gone_.  There were so many bodies, some of them still alive, and the ships were mere fragments and he wanted to scream at them to stop, stop it didn’t matter, they were already dead and the ships were gone and why did they do it?  Why had they ever left their islands? They were killing strangers and there was so much blood in the water and the scent of it hurt his nose.

 

Where was Hero’s ship?  

 

Keith swam as fast as he could, dodging the nets of rope and sails, the sinking wood, the thrashing bodies.  He cried out as he swam. Maybe Hero would hear him.

 

He shouldn’t be here.  He shouldn’t be trying to save a human.

 

But Hero was _good_.  His song was his heart and his song was beautiful.  Keith had to find him. He would search all night if he had to.

 

And there!  That was the ship Hero had been on!  It was on the bottom already and Keith’s stomach lurched with dread, for what if Hero was already broken in two, ripped apart like the boat he had relied on?  

 

 _Hero was a good swimmer, a good sailor, a good person_.

 

Keith had to check all of the bodies.  The sailors wore similar clothes after all—even the ones from the other side of the fight.

 

 _There were so many bodies_.

 

They had sightless eyes, floating limbs.  It was a grave full of not-yet-ghosts, and far worse some not-yet-bodies saw him and screamed, even as they drowned.  

 

Hero was a good person.  Hero was beautiful.

 

And there!  There! That one!  It was the right size, the right shape, and Keith sped to him.  His eyes blinked twice and closed, even as Keith reached for him.  He was trapped in ropes and no, no the wooden beams were holding him down, and Keith reached, reached and slashed and ropes gave way.  Keith ripped with teeth and claws and he had him, he had Hero in his arms, and raced to break the surface.

 

It was loud and dark and full of fire, but it was the surface and it was air, and he had Hero in his arms.  Keith sobbed in relief as he felt the flutter of a heart under his fingers. Hero was going to be okay. He just needed to take him to shore.

 

~*~*~

 

It wasn't fair.  The humans survived the battle and made it the beach, and still they fought.  He saw a man stab another, staining the sand a horrifying red, and the blood bubbled in the dying man’s throat.

 

“Terran dog,” the living man sneered.

 

What did that mean?  What would happen to Hero if Keith brought him to this shore?  Hero was sick. His arm was bent in unnatural ways, and he hadn’t woken up yet, not really.  He needed a human shaman.

 

He needed his home island.

 

There really wasn't a choice to make.

 

~*~*~

 

Keith didn’t know when he had gotten injured.  He hadn’t even noticed it until well after he had draped Hero over a bit of floating wreckage and tied it around his waist with a long rope.  He had swam half the night before he realized the scent of blood was coming from his own face. He almost laughed in relief. A shark would be less likely to follow a mer’s blood than a human’s, and even though Hero was bleeding as well, there were plenty of easier targets.  

 

He swam fast and hard.  It was a long ways to Hero’s island, and he only stopped twice: once to kill a shark that had come too close (perhaps simply curious, but Keith was not going to wait to find out) and once to hiss and slap his tail at seabirds that tried to land on Hero’s chest.  There were more birds in the sky, but Keith could not do anything about those. They circled for a quarter of a day before determining the human was too well-guarded by the angry mer. Keith was furious at the lost time, but none of the birds had succeeded in pecking at Shiro, and he had still managed to swim through most of it.  

 

Hero got worse.  Every small moan of pain was a blessing to Keith’s heart and fuel for his body to swim faster, to swim harder.  He spoke little encouragements to the man whenever he checked on him. Hero seemed to listen sometimes, but mostly he just breathed fearfully slow and his arm looked worse each time Keith saw it.

 

And finally—there was Hero’s island.  It was night when he arrived, and Keith carefully untied himself and guided the man nearly to shore.  

 

“Help!  Help! There is a man in the water!  Help!” Keith screamed. Lights appeared in windows, and soon the humans pulled Hero to safety.

 

It was the last time Keith saw him for almost a year.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for finally getting to the backstory~~! I hope y’all liked it. <3 We’re not going to learn much more about Keith’s papa, sorry. Well, not until the Krolia follow-up minic-fic epilogue-thingy. 
> 
>  
> 
> If someone with actual skill would finish my drawing, I would marry them. ;^; EDIT: I said this and then jfc didn't put in the picture. It will be up Soooon. EDIT AGAIN: I can't figure out how to actually insert an image, but it's on my tumblr now. >_>
> 
>  
> 
> Keith’s life didn’t fully revolve around Shiro, btw. It’s not like he was searching wrecks everyday. When he found a new wreck, he’d search it, but he wasn't actively seeking them out after he found the first flute. He spent a lot of time just exploring and hanging out with Pidge, too. 
> 
>  
> 
> Shiro didn’t think the thing leaving him flutes was necessarily the ocean or his father’s ghost. He considered those to be two different possibilities, and sorta just let the matter drop. “Ooo! A new flute! That’s awesome. Thanks, somebody.” ← Kinda like that. He was convinced it wasn't a human but it was clearly a benevolent being who liked his playing (and didn’t appear to want to meet him), so he figured the polite thing to do was play the flutes and more or less ignore everything else. If it happened to him, Lance would have flipped shit. Hunk would’ve been spooked and probably never gone back. Pidge would have set a trap. Keith and Shiro? “Oh, okay then.” Smh.
> 
>  
> 
> We’re getting so near the end!!! Next chapter the boys reunite and things are happy and Pidge meets Lance and is not impressed. 
> 
>  
> 
> (Lance is hella impressed because MERMAID.)
> 
>  
> 
> Chapter 15 will be nothing but niceness and epilogue-y things. Chapter 16 will be Krolia and Chapter 17 will be Plance.
> 
>  
> 
> Speaking of Plance!!! I’m posting a thing for the Plance Smut Week prompts on the 29th. That’s the ABO day, so it will be Plance set in my Shiro the Hero AU. Ooo!! It will be their first time, and they will be huge dorks about it. <3
> 
>  
> 
> (Pidge is an Alpha in that AU, btw, so she will have a penis. Just a ‘warning’ in case that is squicky for someone…?? I don’t think it will bother y’all since no one cared about intersex Keith and I think we all expect certain things in ABO fics. But, ya know, fair warnings or whatever.)
> 
>  
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> Oh god this note got away from me. Again. >_<
> 
>  
> 
> Feel free to DM or anon me any questions about this or other fics! <3 See you soon!


	14. Had I told the sea what I felt for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lance makes a discovery, Shiro is brave, Krolia gives some advice, Pidge meets some humans, and Keith gets to kiss and cuddle his lover again. 
> 
> (Have y'all forgotten this story yet? Omg I'm so sorry.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “It's the sound of the sea that makes you believe in mermaids.”
> 
> ― Anthony T. Hincks
> 
> “Had I told the sea  
> What I felt for you,  
> It would have left its shores,  
> Its shells,  
> Its fish,  
> And followed me.”   
> ― نزار قباني

A hand.  A fucking hand.  There was a hand in the shallows and it was attached to an arm and the whole thing was made of metal.  Just.  What the fuck.  How could Puppy have made this?  Did he  _ find  _ it?  

 

(Just really. What. The. Fuck.) 

 

Lance had felt too miserable to stay at Shiro’s bedside, watching his friend cry in his sleep, so he’d joined the search effort and now had found this...thing.  He puzzled over what to do next.  Shiro had been crying for his arm and he’d said something about Puppy giving it to him, so maybe…?  Maybe what?  Maybe Puppy was secretly a mechanical genius?  

 

Fuck.

 

What the fuck was he supposed do a metal arm?!  He was going to have to show it Shiro, wasn't he.

 

Fuck.  Again.

 

With a sigh, he tucked the arm under his own and told the nearest servant he was going to check on Shiro before heading up to the prince’s room.  He half hoped to find the man sleeping, but Shiro was sitting up in bed, staring blankly at his lap.

 

“I know you won’t believe me,” he said without looking up, “but he’s a mermaid.”

 

“You’re right,” Lance said, “I don’t believe you, because that’s fucking crazy.  But you know what else is fucking crazy?  This arm.”  He tossed the metal contraption on the bed and Shiro picked it up with a cry.

 

“You found it!  You found my arm,” he said, turning it over and marveling at it.  

 

For a brief second, Lance considered reprimanding the man for having given him and half the castle nightmares at his choice of wording, but really—there’s no way Shiro could’ve known and the poor man had been out of his mind with panic at the time (and he  _ had  _ been looking for his arm).

 

Lance perched himself on the bed.  “So?  What’s next?”

 

“Help me try it on?” Shiro guessed.  

 

Between the two of them it wasn't difficult to line up the clockwork arm and slide it on.  Lance had just begun to wonder how they would rig it up to keep it in place when the metal fingers moved, causing both of them to scream in shock.

 

“Did you do that?!  Did you just fucking do that?!” Lance screamed, jabbing his finger at Shiro’s new hand.

 

“I think I did,” Shiro said, eyes wide.  He experimentally lifted the arm and wiggled his fingers, stretching them and then making a fist.  “Lance, I have an arm.  I have arm and I can  _ move  _ it.”

 

“What the hell what the hell what the hell,” Lance chanted, first in shock and then in delight as Shiro successfully picked up a pillow.  “Shiro you have a fucking arm you can move!”

 

Shiro sprang out of bed and spent the next five minutes picking up objects.  He dropped half of them but laughed with joy anyway, Lance cursing and clapping the whole time.  

 

“How does it work?!  How does it  _ feel _ ??” Lance asked, grabbing Shiro by the arm to examine it.

 

“No idea, but I don’t feel anything really, just some pressure.  It’s kind of heavy,” he admitted, “but then I haven’t used my shoulder in a year.”

 

“And this thing is made of metal,” Lance said reasonably.

 

“And this thing is made of metal,” Shiro agreed.

 

“Can you take it off…?” Lance asked hesitantly, suddenly worried that perhaps the thing was now adhered to Shiro for life.  Maybe they should have been more careful with a magic, metal arm with Shiro’s  _ exact  _ measurements.  Thankfully, however, it slipped off easily and went limp.  They peered into it.

 

“It’s magic, isn’t it,” Lance said quietly.  There was no other explanation.  The gears that whirled almost silently when Shiro had moved his fingers were still now and there was no sign of a switch or mechanism to control it.  The arm had responded to Shiro and now, without him, it was “off”.

 

“I think so,” Shiro agreed, equally quiet.  

 

A cloud of unspoken implications hovered over them.

 

“So,” Lance said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, “Keith’s a mermaid.  Wait, wouldn’t he be a  _ merman _ , not a mermaid?  Or is there more going on here?”

 

“Merman,” Shiro flushed.  “Not that I  _ looked _ , but his voice was the same.”

 

“His voice was the same—so what was different?” Lance asked.

 

“He had pointed ears, and gills, and claws, and...a tail,” Shiro finished with a grimace.

 

“Okay, what’s with that expression—was he ugly or something?” 

 

“What?  No!  It just sounds crazy when I say it out loud.  He was  _ beautiful _ ,” Shiro insisted.  “And his face was still the same.  He looked like him.  He almost looked  _ more  _ like him, if that makes sense.”

 

“It doesn’t, but okay.  Moving on,” Lance said, rubbing his hands.  “What do we do about a merman?  Do you remember what happened, why he left?  I assume he didn’t want the rest of us to know what he is, considering he didn’t come when we called.”

 

Shiro grimaced again before relating the previous day’s events.  “I think I hurt him,” he concluded.

 

“What—that wilting flower?   _ Hurt _ ?  Never,” Lance said.  Annnd the joke fell flat.  He tried again, serious this time.  “Listen, Shiro, I don’t know what all is going on here, but that kid is totally gone on you.  I’ve never seen anyone so stupidly in love as Pupp— _ FUCK!!!! _ ” Lance screamed.  He stared at the startled Shiro, his soul filled with pure, devastated loss for an opportunity missed.  “I should have been calling him Guppy.”

 

Shiro promptly hit him over the head with his new arm.

 

“Ow!  Ow!!  I get it, I get it,” Lance laughed.  “Look, I spent all last night searching the shore, so give me a break.”  

 

Shiro relented his assault and almost reluctantly reattached his arm.

 

“So, what’s the next step?  Keith didn’t come to  _ us _ , but I bet he’d come to you.  Do you think you can make it to the beach?”

 

Shiro shook his head.  “He’s not at the beach.  Get me a rowboat—and probably something for me to vomit in.  I know where he’s going to be,” he said grimly.  

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

It wasn't fair, honestly, Shiro thought to himself as he waited for Lance to finish his preparations.  Sure, there had been about ten thousand obvious signs, but how could Shiro have reasonably be expected to know what they meant considering the answer was “mythical creatures are real”?

 

_ I’m Keith from the ocean.  I’m going to make you happy _ .  

 

He knew the currents and the islands but not their names, or what a castle was, or  _ soup _ , and he could barely walk but swam like water itself.  

 

_ I’m glad that I got to meet you, Takashi Shirogane.  I’m sorry that you’re sad _ .

 

And all this time, Shiro had thought Keith was like him—broken.  He was probably lucky that Keith hadn’t been insulted.  

 

_ Hearts break when they lose something important _ .  

 

Keith had been the one giving him the flutes, hadn’t he.  He knew Shiro’s song.  Fuck.  So much for all those private practices, Shiro laughed ruefully to himself.  He didn’t mind though, considering the audience.  But wow—how long had Keith been listening to him?  How had Keith known which ship he was on?  Did merfolk have magical tracking powers?  Oh shit—could Keith read his mind?!  Because he had thought some very colorful things in the boy’s presence.  Shit.  He really needed to see him.  

 

...did Keith still want to see him?

 

_ I would never leave you, Shiro.  I don’t want to be anywhere else unless I’m going there with you _ .

 

Fuck.  He’d said all those things and walked until his feet bled and _ left the fucking ocean _ for Shiro.  Yes.  Yes, Keith still wanted to see him.  Now it was a matter of finding Keith and reassuring him that Shiro wasn't afraid—he was afraid of water, yes, but not of  _ him _ —and that he still thought Keith was beautiful.

 

_ You’re beautiful like a storm _ .

 

God, Keith was so beautiful: body, heart, and soul.  Shiro didn’t care if he was a human or a merman or a goddamn seal.  Okay, maybe that last one would be a problem, but a merman?  It was fine, completely fine.  Shiro needed to find him and tell him.  Shiro still loved him.

 

_ I want to stay because you're here.  I love you, the way you love me.  That's why I want to stay. _

 

He wanted Keith to stay.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

Keith had not been scolded since he was a pup and to his utter shock he was still not scolded now.  Instead, he was pulled into a gentle but firm hug.

 

“I missed you,” his mother said simply.  “Pidge told me what you have been doing.  You must be sad.”

 

Keith hugged her back.  “Yeah.”  He wanted to say more but instead he bit back grateful tears for her understanding.

 

“So,” she said briskly, “what are you doing here?”

 

That was confusing.

 

“I came to see you,” he said.  

 

She nodded.  “Yes, but I would have gone to see you.  Your lover is still on that island, is he not?  That is where you should be.”

 

Keith shook his head.  “He’s afraid of me.  He was scared when he saw me.”

 

Krolia tsked.  “Scared, or startled?  He didn’t know what you are, did he?”

 

“Well, no,” Keith frowned.  He relayed the events since Pidge’s report.

 

“Darling,” Krolia said softly, “that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you—even if he  _ was  _ scared.  He’s you lover and I’m sure he’s looking for you.  Let’s go back together.  I’ll help you think of what to say.”

 

“Why aren’t you mad at me?” Keith said in wonder.  Sure, his mother loved him, but a mother can be loving and angry at the same time.  

 

“It would be very hypocritical of me,” she said with sigh.  “Your father was human.”

 

What.

 

What what  _ what _ ?!

 

“And you never had time to mention that?!” Keith burst out.

 

“Hush,” Krolia said, glancing about, “your uncles don’t know.”

 

Which was a whole other question, but more importantly: “But surely  _ I _ should know,” Keith glared.

 

“A pup doesn’t need a complicated life and doesn’t need a secret to hide from his family,” Krolia replied, not the least bit ruffled by Keith’s frustration.  She had clearly grown comfortable with her own silence over the years, having had decades to become perfectly accustom to the idea of a half-human child.  “And once you were old enough, you were already too curious about humans.  I didn’t want you repeating my mistake.”

 

“Dad was a...mistake?” Keith said hesitantly.

 

“ _ I _ made mistakes,” Krolia corrected.  “Your father is how I was able to have you, and that has been the best part of my life.”

 

Keith rolled his eyes but smiled anyway.  Moms.

 

“I’m surprised your potion worked,” she continued.  “I’m sure the witch did not know to accommodate for your half-nature.”   
  


Yikes.  Now  _ there  _ was a thought.  He’d been very lucky that he’d still been able to screech-yell to Pidge and that the only negative side effect he’d experienced was almost turning back when he’d swum too deep for too long.  He might have become some weird half-creature and been stuck that way.  Keith shivered with the realization of his close call.  

 

“Any other secrets I should know about?” he asked, voice tinted with a hint of sarcasm.  He couldn’t resist the small barb.  It was going to take him a long time to get used to the idea of his human patronage, but right now he felt mostly relief that he hadn’t hurt his mother.

 

Krolia smiled and shook her head.  “That is the depth of your secrets—at least the ones  _ I _ know anyway,” she said meaningfully.  

 

“Sorry for not telling you what I was doing,” Keith said sheepishly.

 

Krolia kissed his head with a sad smile.  “I understand.  I would have left the ocean for your father, too.  Now, let’s go see your lover.”

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

“Oh my god, that is so fucking cute.  He gave you that flute, didn’t he?” Lance asked, nodding toward the red instrument currently clutched in Shiro’s hands.  They were out on the water now with Lance rowing and Shiro huddled on the floor, vomit-bucket at the ready.  To distract himself and help pass the time, he was relaying what he knew of his and Keith’s shared past.

 

“The only thing I can say for sure is that he saved my life and he knows my song.  There could be a flock of other merfolk involved, for all I know,” Shiro said.

 

“No, it’s definitely just Keith because that is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard and I refuse to be corrected unless the story somehow gets cuter, which it can’t, because that is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard,” Lance insisted smoothly.  “Also, wouldn’t a group of mermaids be a pod, not a flock?  Oo!  Or a school!”

 

Shiro chuckled.  It helped a lot to have Lance with him.  The rowboat had been a good choice, too—better than being in a boat with a sail and of course far better than swimming.

 

Having a second arm helped, too, even if he was nearly useless with it, he thought, staring at the metal appendage.  He wiggled the fingers and marvelled as they moved just like he wanted.  Well, not *just* like—but damn close.  He was already better with it than when he first put the arm on that morning.  It was incredible.

 

Lance prompted him to keep talking so he did and, very occasionally, he peeped over the edge of the boat to check their progress.  Lance was a good rower, but Shiro was nervous and the time crept by.  After what felt like hours, they reached Shiro’s cove.  His little shack looked quite pitiful now, Shiro noted as he squinted against the sunlight.  It was nearing midmorning and the light reflected off the water, almost painfully cheerful.

 

Keith wasn't there.

 

Not that Shiro had expected to find him sunning himself on the dock, but… Well, he’d still hoped to see him immediately.

 

(Shiro  _ missed  _ him, okay?  He was a bit of a sucker like that.)

 

“So, what now?” Lance asked, pulling up the oars.  

 

It was a good question.  Shiro had been planning on the romantic gesture of playing his flute, but his nerves had completely failed him on that front, thanks very much.  Nothing for it but to yell.

 

“Keith!” he called out.  “Keith, I’m here!”  Silence from the water.  He tried again.  “Keith, I’m here and I love you!  Please come out!  Keeeeith!”  

 

More silence.

 

“Keith!  He’s an idiot and he knows it!  It’s just me and him, so it’s okay now!  Keith!” Lance shouted helpfully.   “He has your arm!!  Keeeeeith!!!”

 

“Hey,” someone called from the water.  

 

Shiro scanned the brightness, spying at last the source of the voice.  It was a young face, scowling, cloaked by bedraggled hair that floated around it.   _ A mermaid _ , Shiro’s mind supplied.

 

“Shut up and go away,” she glared.  “He’s not around here.”

 

Shiro’s heart clenched in his chest.  “Why?” he asked, afraid that Keith no longer wished to see him.

 

The mermaid smirked.  “Because I told his mother what he’s been up to.”

 

Shiro had spent considerable time fighting his guilt over the idea of Keith having a family somewhere that missed him.  He had not, however, considered that said family would be a mother who would scold him as if he was a child who had stayed out past dark.

 

“Hi,” Lance interrupted, thrusting his hand out.  “My name is Lance.”

 

The mermaid looked at him skeptically.  “I know who you are, Lance McClain, and I’m not getting in your boat.”

 

“Keith’s talked about me?” Lance said eagerly.

 

“It’s called ‘shaking hands’,” Shiro said, ignoring his friend.  “It’s how we greet each other.”  He turned and demonstrated.  “Hello, Lance, my name is Shiro.”

 

Lance heartily shook his hand before offering his own again to the mermaid.  She hesitated before swimming a little closer and cautiously reaching out.

 

“Pidge,” she said simply, and dropped his hand immediately.

 

“Are you the friend he made cry?” Shiro asked and instantly regretted it.  That was an incredibly rude thing to say.  What he’d meant was that he knew Keith had a very important friend, and was that Pidge?

 

A series of complicated scowls passed over the mermaid’s face.  “Of course I fucking cried.  He was going to choose you over the  _ goddamn ocean _ , until you were fucking a shithead and almost drowned and ruined everything and broke his fucking heart.  Shithole.”

 

Shiro had not known that he had formed an impression of merfolk based entirely off of Keith’s sweet, naive personality, but the foul-mouthed girl before him quickly rectified his mental image of a quiet, gentle people.

 

“I’m very sorry about that,” Shiro said sincerely.  “I was confused and frightened, but not of him.  I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

 

“Good,” Pidge said, jutting out her chin.  She considered him through narrowed eyes before, apparently satisfied, speaking again.  “How is the arm working out?”

 

“It’s incredible,” Shiro said, lifting it and wiggling his fingers for her inspection.  “Did you make this?”

 

“I did,” Pidge said with a self-satisfied smile.  “How does it feel?  Does it fit okay?”  

 

Shiro was reluctant to lean out over the water to let her see the arm better and she seemed to understand his hesitation.  She grabbed the edge of the boat and hoisted herself part way up.  Shiro gratefully showed her his arm and demonstrated his range of motion.  She nodded her approval.

 

“I can make some adjustments if you like,” she said carefully, fiddling with his pinky.  “It will help if I can have better tools—whatever you use to adjust your watches would be especially great.”

 

“Of course,” Shiro said hurriedly.  “Just tell me whatever you want.  I owe you everything for this arm.”

 

Pidge blinked.  “The watch tools will be fine, but I’ll let you know if I think of something,” she said.  “Keith is the one who owes me, anyway.”

 

“But I appreciate this, and I’d love to give you something in return,” Shiro insisted.  What had Keith traded for this?  He owed Keith as well.

 

“So what does Keith say about me?” Lance interrupted.  Pidge and Shiro whirled on him with twin glares and he raised his hands in apology.  “Continue your conversation,” he said meekly.  “I’ll just be, um, here.   Quietly,” he added quickly.

 

Shiro turned back to Pidge.  “Where is he?” he asked, trying not to sound too desperate.  “Do you know when he’ll be back?  I really need to talk to him.”

 

Pidge searched his face again for a moment before sighing.  “He’s here,” she said.

 

“What?” Shiro asked, heart hammering.

 

“We arrived not that long before you did, but then he got too nervous and wimped out.  He’s over there,” Pidge pointed.

 

Shiro launched himself into the water.

 

And immediately regretted it.

 

The only reason he didn’t outright panic when he plunged under the salt and cold and was lost into the darkness was his surprise at the feeling of how natural it felt to have two arms as he clawed frantically at the water.  Before fear could claim him, familiar arms wrapped around him and when he broke the surface there was Keith, worry in his beautiful eyes.  Shiro returned the embrace and buried his face in Keith’s neck—partially to hide from the water, but mostly just to be closer.  

 

“Keith,” he breathed.  “You don’t have to leave the ocean for me.  I’ll come to the shore and I’ll learn to swim again.  Please don’t go.  I love you so much, Keith.  Please don’t go.”

 

Keith made a soft sound and Shiro felt a tickle of breath from his gills.  A strong tail was against his legs, moving in firm strokes to keep them both at the surface.  Neither of these things made him any less certain this was  _ Keith  _ in his arms, Keith who he loved with his entire being, Keith who he wasn't going to let go unless the other man begged him to.

 

“Where do you want to go?” Keith said.  “Back in the boat, or maybe to shore?”

 

“Shore,” Shiro gasped, holding him tighter as Keith began to swim.  He focused on the feeling of Keith’s muscles bunching under his hands and kept his breathing steady, slow and careful, until he found himself sitting on the pebbly bottom, waves no higher than his ribcage.  It was shallow enough for him to feel and he realized Keith couldn’t carry him further without trouble.  He loosened his grip and Keith pulled back a little, eyes cast down as he chewed on his lip.  

 

“Thank you,” Shiro said, letting out a long breath.  “Thank you, Keith, this is fine.”

 

Keith nodded and hesitated a moment before burying his face in Shiro’s lap and mumbling something hurriedly that Shiro couldn’t hear through the water.

 

“What was that?” Shiro asked, gently pulling on his shoulder to encourage him to roll over.  Reluctantly, Keith did.

 

“I said I’m sorry that I got scared and left and I’m sorry I got scared again when you came here,” he said.  

 

His eyes were wide and frightened.  He looked fierce, in a way.  He was a sleek and powerful predator with claws and fangs and strength in his limbs and a large scar on his cheek.  He was also a sweet boy who was petrified with worry, and Shiro was immediately petting his face and hair without realizing.

 

“It’s okay, baby.  I’m scared, too.  I’m scared I’ll say the wrong thing and you’ll swim away and I’ll never see you again, and that’s the last thing I want to happen.  I love you, Keith.  Everything else is details,” Shiro said softly.  He watched the words sink in as Keith’s face relaxed.  The merman closed his eyes and let out a trembling sigh before nodding and opening his eyes, his expression clearer.

 

“I want to stay where you are,” Keith said.  “I love you, Shiro.”

 

Shiro bent down to kiss  him.  Keith rolled to his stomach and tried to sit up and kiss him properly, but it was awkward trying to kiss in the waves when Keith had no knees and Shiro was being mindful of not sinking backward into the water.  They ended up laughing at their clumsy attempt which was more noses and chins than anything else.

 

“We can lie on the beach,” Keith suggested.  

 

“You’ll be okay out of the water?” Shiro asked.  He didn’t appear to need his gills to breathe, which was fascinating.  

 

Keith shrugged.  “My skin will itch if I stay out for too long, but that would take several hours.  I’m fine.”

 

His tail was longer than Shiro had realized and it was a little difficult to get him pulled fully up on shore but they managed it and Shiro stretched out next to him, their hands tangling together without a thought.

 

“So,” Shiro said.  “You’re a merman.”

 

Keith eyes danced with amusement when he nodded.

 

“How did you end up with legs?” Shiro asked curiously.  Keith hadn’t transformed when he was back on land to Shiro’s knowledge he hadn’t turned back into a merman during any of his daily swims.  

 

“I drank a potion,” Keith explained, “and then when you were drowning I undid it.”

 

“Ah,” Shiro said, clipping the word short as he realized that this meant the disguise failing was his fault.

 

Keith squeezed his hand.  “I  _ chose  _ to do it, Shiro.  All of it.”

 

Shiro squeezed back.  “So what does this mean?  You can’t turn human again?  Not that you have to—you can be whatever you want to be,” Shiro assured him quickly.

 

“I can’t be human without another potion,” Keith said, shaking his head.  “The witch who makes potions...he only makes them when  _ he  _ wants to, you know?  Only if you have something to trade that he needs.  It could be a few months or even years.  I can find out if he wants anything right now, though.  I’d rather be human,” he added, a bit wistful.  “I don’t want to ask you to come to the ocean for me.”

 

“You really think I’ll never get better?” Shiro said sadly.  “I  _ can  _ come to the shore for you, Keith.  I’ll do it.”

 

Keith blushed.  “I know you can.  I just don’t want it be painful for you to see me,” he said, “an-and I’d rather wake up next to you.”

 

(Goddammit, this kid was going to kill him.)

 

“And, um, I don’t want other people to see me, so I’d rather be human.  Lance McClain is okay,” he added.  “He’s my friend.”

 

(So cute.  Oh god.)

 

“Yes, he’s a good person,” Shiro smiled.  “You’re afraid of humans, aren’t you?  I understand.  Even if no one wanted to hurt you, there would be a lot of them who would want to come and look at you.”  Keith was shrinking down and Shiro pulled his hand closer.  “I won’t tell anyone about you, and I’m not going to let anyone hurt you,” he promised.  Keith smiled shyly and nodded and it hurt Shiro’s heart in the best way.  He kissed Keith’s hand.

 

“It doesn’t bother you?” Keith asked, making Shiro glance up.

 

“That you’re a merman?  No, not at all.  Does it bother you that I’m a human?” Shiro asked.

 

“Of course not,” Keith said so quickly it sounded indignant.  “But, I  _ knew  _ about humans.”

 

“I am surprised and very curious but it doesn’t bother me—you’re Keith and I love you,” Shiro reassured him.  “Is it, um, is it okay if I…,” he faltered.  What was the best way to word this?  Can I ‘explore’ you?  Can you show me how your body works?  I want know you like this, too, and I’m already starving to touch you so can I kiss you everywhere my lips can reach?

 

(Perhaps too much.)

 

(Actually, probably not too much.  This was Keith, the boy who said “Your noises make me feel good here” and dear god he was blushing at the  _ memory _ .)  

 

A quick glance over his shoulder revealed at Pidge and Lance were still talking, but the rowboat was far too close for real privacy.  Oh well.

 

Keith was smiling when Shiro looked back at him.  “You want to touch me,” he said proudly.

 

(Oh fuck.)

 

“Yes, but um, they’re too near,” Shiro said, blushing furiously and gesturing toward the boat.

 

“Oh!”  Keith said, his eyes widening.  “You want to  _ touch  _ me.”

 

“Both kinds of touching,” Shiro said, voicing squeaking.  

 

“Well, this is my tail and my penis is in here,” he said as he pointed to a slit roughly where his human penis would have been.  “It only comes out when I’m aroused.  When male mers have sex, they put their penises in each other’s slits, so that won’t work for us since you don’t have one but we can still do plenty of nice things,” he concluded.  

 

Shiro wondered vaguely if he should be repulsed by Keith’s tail considering there were scales and didn’t that make this like having sex with animal?  He wasn't, though.  Repulsed.  He wasn't repulsed  _ at all _ .    In fact, the idea of exploring Keith’s slit with his hands or mouth or cock stirred a want that was hard to ignore.  Instead, he brushed his fingers down Keith’s hip.

 

(Was it hip if there weren’t legs to attach to it?  What was his skeletal structure like??  Questions for a different time.)

 

“You’re beautiful,” he said in awe, staring at Keith’s scales in fascinating.  They were black until they caught the light and then they flashed a brilliant red.  They were smooth and not sharp at the ends or rough like a shark—he was more like a snake, Shiro decided.  His tail was a little less firm than his torso and to his surprise Keith’s mer skin felt different from his human form.  It was smoother and cooler and a little bit slick, rather like a dolphin.  No wonder he had sunburned so badly. 

 

Shiro couldn’t resist the urge to place one kiss to his chest and when he looked up at Keith’s face he was surprised to find relief in his features.  Keith had been worried that Shiro wouldn’t be attracted to him anymore.  Nothing could be further from the truth.

 

“You’re beautiful,” Shiro said again, this time firmly.  “I am looking forward to when I can touch more of you.”  

 

Keith made an adorably happy sound as he ducked his head in embarrassment.

 

( _ So _ cute.  He had no idea what he did to Shiro’s heart.) 

 

“Do you want to meet my mom?” Keith asked, peeping up.

 

“I’d love to meet her,” Shiro smiled.  He’d never thought he’d get to meet any of Keith’s family.  He was delighted to have the oppor—what on Earth had Keith just done?!  He’d sat up and dropped his jaw, his throat muscles flexing.  He tilted his head as if to listen, repeated his original motion, and then lay back down.

 

“She’ll be here really soon,” he smiled.

 

It was some kind of mermaid communication then and oh my god Shiro was not prepared to suddenly meet his sort of mother-in-law without time to prepare and  _ oh my god _ he had just moments ago been hungrily eyeing Keith’s body and he prayed that she couldn’t see that from wherever she was.

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

“Why would she care about that?” Keith asked, laughing hard.  Shiro had just said he was worried about his mom ‘watching us earlier’.  “She knows you’re my lover.  She’d find it weird if we  _ didn’t  _ have sex.  Humans!  You guys have sex all the time but you can’t stand to talk about it,” he said, laughing again.

 

“Sorry,” Shiro said sheepishly.  “Does it bother you how much I want to have sex?”

 

“No!  I love it,” Keith said, far more eagerly than he meant to.  “But, I’m half-human, so that might be why.  I just found that out.”

 

“You  _ what _ ?” Shiro asked in shock.

 

Before Keith could explain, his mother appeared.

 

“Hi, Mom!” Keith cried, propping himself up on his elbows and waving.  

 

“Hello, Keith,” she said.  She was in the shallows, watching Shiro with a hint of suspicion.  

 

Shiro sprang up immediately and went to the water.  Keith could see the moment the fear hit him followed by the realization that he was towering over Krolia since he was standing and she floating.  He dropped to his knees with a loud splash, grimaced at the sound, and stretched out his hand.

 

“Hello,” he said.  “My name is Takashi Shirogane and I love your son.  I would appreciate if you called me ‘Shiro’ and holding my hand out is a human greeting.”

 

“Yes,” she said, amusement creeping into her eyes.  “I heard you tell Pidge about ‘shaking hands’.”  She floated closer and offered her hand.  “My name is Krolia.  My son loves you very much and has told me quite a lot about you.  You have treated him well.  Thank you.”

 

Shiro had met Pidge and his mother now!  His three favorite people together.  Keith’s heart was nearly bursting.  

 

Krolia offered to lie on the beach as she knew of Shiro’s fear and did not mind the shore, so Shiro helped her up.  It took Keith a while to sort out why Shiro was being so awkward with where he placed his hands, but then it hit him: humans wore clothes.  He had to bite his cheek to hold back a giggle at Shiro’s embarrassment over a perfectly normal pair of breasts.  His mate was so silly.

 

His mate.

 

His cheeks flamed at the thought.  Shiro was his mate.  He was sure of it now—he had seen Keith in his true form and still loved and wanted him.  There was no reason to be afraid.  They would have difficulties, but it was going to be okay.  They were going to be together.

 

(And that was all that mattered.)

 

 

~*~*~

 

 

The three of them spent several hours on the beach and partway through the afternoon Pidge and Lance McClain joined them.  Keith’s heart had never been so full.  He could tell Pidge and his mother approved of both of his new friends—Shiro more than Lance McClain, but it had taken him a bit to make up his mind about the latter as well, so that was only fair.  It had been all been wonderful, and Keith’s favorite moment was when Shiro had interrupted himself mid-sentence to stumble over his own shock at forgetting to thank Keith for saving his life.  It was adorable.  It was also a little embarrassing, as he then had to relate (to his mother’s mild disapproval and Pidge’s great amusement) just how long he had been watching (“Stalking,” Pidge corrected) the prince.  Lance McClain had declared everything “painfully romantic and stupidly cute” and unknowingly finally won the mermaids’ good opinions.  

 

At last, the humans were too tired and too hungry to stay longer, and Shiro had promised (with a kiss!!) to come back the next day.  Keith sighed in deep, loopy contentment, making Pidge roll her eyes.  She’d then swam off to give him and his mother some privacy.

 

They talked.  She shared stories of his father and Keith was grateful for each one—he could see how much it hurt her to remember him.  

 

“I wish you could have met him,” she said.  “He was a good man, rather like your mate in some ways.  And, having seen your human and how he loves you, I feel safe in offering you something—if you wish it.  I, too, have a potion of transformation.  It will need to be adjusted for your half-nature, but it is yours to take.”

 

“What?!” Keith cried.  “You have one?!  Why do you have one?”

 

“As I said, I would have left the sea for him,” she said sadly.  “But, when I realized I was pregnant with you, I decided to wait and see if you were born human or mer or somewhere in between.  Since you had gills and a tail, I knew I would stay in the sea with you.”

 

Keith was now fully overwhelmed by the developments of the last few days.  He had Shiro as his mate, he had his mother’s approval, he was half-human, and he could be fully human again.  Everything was shocking and everything was going to be okay.  The future was bright, and Keith couldn’t wait to tell Shiro.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it was that, 60k words into a fic, Saasan realized that Keith should actually be total shite at swimming because he doesn’t know how to work his legs. GODDAMMIT. *Sobs into hands* ← or I guess flippers.
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> I’m a seal. *nods*
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> Shiro was smart to bring a bucket! It meant he didn’t have to get on his knees and throw up over the side of the boat (thus staring into the water) and it meant he wasn't getting vomit into “Keith’s water” and/or throwing up directly onto Keith when he surfaced. Can. You. Imagine. (Gay boys panic; Lance dies laughing.)
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> DID Y’ALL SEE IT COMING!?!??!? HALF-HUMAN KEEF?!?!?!? Or was it totally out of nowhere and unjustified….? ;^; Because the hints were TINY. Anyway. You’ll learn more about that in the side story/epilogue chapter/whatever you wanna call it on Krolia. I’m excited! I’ve read some nommy Krolia/Heath stuff lately and I’ve been itching to try writing it.
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> I’ve been itching to write a lot of things. ;^;
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> Which, btw, bless you ALL for being so freaking amazing!! No one complained about a lack of updates while I did Kinktober. NO ONE. I seriously have the best frigging readers. Just. Damn. Like, a few people asked when there would be an update, but that is 100% valid and y’all are always welcome to ask for a time estimate. *Complaining* is Highly Discouraged, but inquiring is completely fine. ^3^ About anything, really. 
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>  
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> (Seriously. Giant fucking shout out to you guys for being patient and polite and Just The Fucking Best.)
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> (And also seriously, you can totally ask me when I think the next update will be.)
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> Pidge doesn’t need the watch tools, btw. She is just being super casual in her begging, lmao. Silly girl. Shiro will *shower* her with gifts. Just fucking pour them all over her. Lance will be confused and vaguely jealous on the sidelines. Don’t you give girls flowers? Pidge has a scientific interest in flowers and no knowledge of human mating rituals. Poor Lance. 
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> I seriously could have written 20 more pages of Keith and Shiro just *talking* and being a bit bashful and very lusty over each other and saying sweet things and cuddling and kissing and just being fluffy af. However: storyline, lol. (Fanfiction is great in that you can totally spend ages just having characters do whatever and fans are like yeeeees TALK you fools TALK) Anyway. I wanted to get things moving along because 1) I wanted to post sometime this year and 2) next chapter is mer!cock fun for Shiro’s ass. YAY~!
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> Next chapter is the last chapter (sorta). It will feature bottom!Shiro with mer!cock and then epilogue-y things and then Keith is human again and bottoms for the first time, because Equality is important, lmao. Then there is a Krolia chapter and Plance chapter, but I’m not sure when I’m doing those yet. I have a Secret Project (not really, lol, it’s a Sheith Bang thingy tho so I’m not spoiling details) annnnnnd SHIRO THE HERO WITH PREGGERS KEEF AND PLANCE. I have been dyyyyying to write mpreg Keith. I have a Mighty Need. A Need which may or may not come before the Krolia and Plance extra chapters.
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> We’ll see.
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> ANYWAY. I love you guys so much. ;^; The end for now!
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> PS: Another big shout out to the second quote at the top. That’s some fucking moving poetry right there and it’s beautiful and painful and perfect and I love it.


	15. Sand always gets in all the wrong places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Krolia reprimands the children, Shiro takes a mer!cock, and Keith gives as many kisses as he gets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “There comes a time in a man's life when he hears the call of the sea. If the man has a brain in his head, he will hang up the phone immediately.”  
> ― Dave Barry
> 
> “Ocean separates lands, not souls.”  
> ― Munia Khan

The consensus was to tell people that Keith had been “found” by his family, had contacted Shiro, and was planning to come back to Arizo.  It would explain both his absence and eventual return and even explained Shiro’s frequent trips to the water: he was getting himself accustomed to the ocean so he could go swimming with Keith when the “sea lad” came home.   Shiro also made the decision not to wear his arm around the castle until Keith’s return—then there would be the excuse that Keith had brought it from somewhere far away. There was going to be a lot of questions about the arm irregardless, but perhaps that would ease the burden of explaining the magical arm’s origins.

 

Shiro let Lance handle these matters.  He also let Lance handle a large portion of his correspondence and the day to day management of the castle.  Shiro worried it was probably putting too much of a burden on his friend, but it was a temporary arrangement and once Shiro could use his new arm at the castle, he’d be able to take on his regular duties again/  In the meantime Lance declared himself overjoyed that “at least  _ someone  _ was doing the work now”.  

 

“How’s the arm today?” Pidge asked the second Shiro alighted from the rowboat and began trudging through the knee-deep water onto the beach.  She and Keith were waiting for him, as always.

 

“Working better all the time,” Shiro said with a smile.  He demonstrated his dexterity by wiggling his fingers and flexing them, showing off his control and range of motion.  “Putting on my arm is the second best part of my day. I really can’t thank you enough.”

 

“What’s the best part of your day?” Keith asked curiously, scooting closer as Shiro plopped down next to him.

 

“You,” Shiro grinned.  He brushed back a lock of Keith’s hair and kissed his forehead, causing the merman to blush and squirm happily.  

 

“Uggh, you guys are  _ so cute _ ,” Lance said, somewhere between admiration and disgust.  He stowed the oars and secured the boat before fetching a case and bringing it to Shiro.  “We’re doing letters here today,” he explained to Keith as he opened the case and set out ink pots and quills.  “Did you want to practice?”

 

“Yes!” Keith said eagerly.  “Pidge, do you want to learn?”  

 

“Once I’m done with my stack, I’ll help you,” Lance said, equally eager.  

 

Shiro chuckled to himself.  Lance was completely fascinated by the mermaid and while the level of enthusiasm was not mutual, Pidge was cautiously curious in turn.   She occasionally brought items from shipwrecks that she could not identify, and he was always delighted to explain them to her. The boy had a long battle ahead of him if he wanted to be friends with her, but Shiro suspected Lance had the energy and determination to do it.  His decision to pack enough “human food” with each picnic had been a big hit—at least with Keith, and pleasing Keith was a good way to please Pidge. 

 

“I think Keith will be a sufficient teach, but if you finish with enough time to help, that would be fine,” Pidge said primly.  She clearly had full confidence in Keith’s abilities—a misguided faith, but a sweet one. 

 

Shiro took his own stack of letters and ledgers to sort through and set to work at a makeshift table Lance had arranged for him (actually a serving tray intended for breakfast in bed, but it was more than serviceable and intrigued Pidge with the concept of “breakfast” and named meals in general.  “My meals are named ‘fish’ and ‘more fish’,” she’d said reasonably). 

 

The stack of paperwork had diminished to a satisfactory size by lunch, and Shiro was particularly pleased by how much his handwriting had improved already.  It was barely two weeks since he’d first tried on the arm and already he wrote better with his metal hand than his human one. The handwriting was still a far cry from what it used to be, but progress was progress.  And, speaking of progress, he hadn’t thrown up on his ride in the rowboat that morning. Progress was progress.

 

Once their picnic was finished, Shiro helped Lance put away the basket and took the opportunity to discreetly tuck away the remainder of his day’s work.  Lance raised an eyebrow and shook his head but said nothing, and that was a victory for the ages. He thought about pushing his luck and teasing his friend over his silence (as Lance was absolutely letting him off easy solely to be able to help Pidge) when Krolia appeared.

 

“I have an update from the witch: the potion will be ready after the next full moon,” she announced.  

 

Less than a month!  It was far sooner than Shiro had dared to hope and he turned to Keith with dancing eyes.  Sitting as he was on the sand, the merman was unable to rush to hug him, but he opened his arms and beckoned excitedly and Shiro dove to embrace him.  

 

“Alright you two, it’s time to leave,” Krolia said.

 

Shiro looked back at her, puzzled.  Who needed to leave and why?

 

“You two,” Krolia said again, pointing to Pidge and Lance.  “My son’s lover will wish to celebrate their good news and they have not mated in half a moon’s turn.  ”

 

Shiro blushed scarlet.  Keith clearly inherited his bluntness from his mother.

 

“How do you know how long it’s been?!” Keith sputtered.

 

“This one visits you all day,” she said, indicating Pidge, “and that one rows him over and does not leave until late,” she concluded, indicating Lance.   “Now, give them their privacy. I’m sure you’re not dependent on their company for the  _ entire  _ day.”

 

No one made eye contact as Pidge slunk away under the waves and Lance crawled into the boat, promising to return in a few hours.  Krolia watched in satisfaction as they left, nodded to her son and his mate, and disappeared into the sea.

 

Shiro cleared his throat and laughed awkwardly.  “Well, that was thoughtful of her.”

 

Keith blushed hard.  “I told her I couldn’t kiss you properly with Lance McClain and Pidge there,” he confessed.  “I didn’t ask her to do any of that.”

 

“It’s okay, baby.  I feel the same way,” Shiro assured him with a grin.  “And just what is a proper kiss?”

 

Keith tugged him down and showed him.  It involved soft whines and biting of lips and quite a bit of tongue, and Shiro approved of it wholeheartedly.  He was untouched but already half-hard from want and from the needy sound Keith made when they pulled apart to breathe.  

“Shiro?” Keith asked timidly.  “I want to have sex with you. Would that be okay?”

 

“Of course, baby.   _ God  _ yes,” Shiro said, barely holding back a groan.  “Tell me how to touch you.”

 

Keith grabbed Shiro’s hand and guided him to his slit.  “Here is best,” he explained shyly, “but I like it anywhere you touch me.”

 

Shiro rubbed along the edge of the slit, curious.  It was tightly closed but gave a little when he pressed at it with the heel of his hand.  Keith squirmed. 

 

“N-not your whole hand, please.  Not at f-first,” Keith said. 

 

“Did it hurt?” Shiro asked in alarm, yanking his hand back.  

 

Keith shook his head.  “Not really, but it’s too much.  Just do like this,” he demonstrated, rubbing a single finger down his slit slowly, “back and forth, and then you can press deeper.”

 

Shiro smoothed over the slit gently.  It nearly blended in with the rest of Keith’s tail and as he slid a finger down the crease he realized just how long it was—easily the length of his hand.  How much of that space was to accommodate his cock? He’d gathered that Keith’s was larger than a human’s, but this was… Shiro shivered. 

 

“Can I lick you here?” he asked.  “Will that feel good?”

 

Keith shook his head again.  “It won’t do much until later.  Once I’m relaxed th-that would be nice,” he blushed.  “And would you...would you please take your clothes off?  I want to see you.”

 

“Of course, baby, whatever you want,” Shiro promised, immediately removing his shirt and beginning work on his pants.  He’d been too eager to explore Keith to think of it earlier.

 

Keith’s pupils were wide and raked over each newly bared inch of skin.  He unconsciously licked his lips and Shiro found himself blushing. How was it Keith could so easily make him feel so  _ wanted _ ?

 

“That better?” Shiro teased.

 

Keith nodded solemnly and Shiro had to laugh and pull him in for a kiss.  “I love you,” he said, and this time as he stroked down he pushed a little more firmly.  Keith’s eyes fluttered closed. 

 

“Good?” Shiro asked quietly, studying his face.  Keith nodded again, cheeks flushing pink. 

 

Shiro pressed in deeper, easing his finger into Keith’s slit and watched in wonder as Keith’s face broke into pleasure.  He had not expected him to be so sensitive here—or so  _ warm _ .  Shiro massaged his finger down the slit and soon found that he could fit in a second and a third, toying with Keith’s edge.  Keith let out a small gasp. 

 

“Good?” Shiro asked again.

 

Keith opened his eyes and circled his hand around Shiro’s wrist.  “Very,” he whispered, and pressed Shiro in deeper. 

 

Shiro felt his fingers brush against something and Keith gasped louder and bit his lip.  “Is that your cock….?” Shiro asked. It was smooth and warm and the same as Keith’s walls, but he couldn’t tell more than that.  

 

“Yes,” Keith whispered again.  “Would you...would you please hold it?  You can fit more in now.”

 

Shiro obeyed, pulling out his fingers and then pressing back in with his hand, careful to keep it flat.  He found Keith’s sensitive flesh and, now that his hand was inside (and holy shit  _ his hand was inside Keith _ ), there was room enough for him to maneuver his fingers and take the cock in his fist.

 

“Oh god,” Keith breathed.  His hands scrambled uselessly in the sand and Shiro clasped one with his free hand.  Keith threaded their fingers together and squeezed back. “Shiro, please…,” he whined.

 

“Please what, baby?” Shiro asked.  He massaged the cock, feeling it thicken rapidly in his grasp.

 

“Pull it out—ahn!—please,” Keith begged.  “Pull my c-cock out.”

 

Shiro tightened his hold on Keith’s cock and guided it out, eyes widening at the sight of it.  Even as he watched, the cock grew larger. 

 

“Fuck,” he said meaningfully, pumping with both hands.  Keith’s cock was  _ massive _ .  By the time it stopped growing, it was comparable to Shiro’s forearm in both width and length.  He would not be able to fit all of it, but he was determined to take as much as he could and oh fuck just the thought of  _ trying  _ stirred his arousal higher.  

 

The cock curved slightly upward against Keith’s belly and looked almost human.  The head of it, however, was longer and more tapered, and although the cock was firm Shiro could tell it was more flexible than a human’s.  As he continued to massage it, clear fluid dribbled from the head, sliding down Keith’s shaft and soon coating it entirely. Shiro bent down and lapped at it.

 

“Th-that feels nice,” Keith stuttered.

 

“I bet it feel nice inside of me,” Shiro grinned.

 

Keith’s eyes widened to comical proportions.  “You’re going to put me...inside you? You want my penis inside your ass?”

 

“I really do, if that’s okay,” Shiro smiled.  He bent down to lick at Keith again. “You’re slick enough that it should be fine.  I won’t be able to fit all of you, though.”

 

Keith whined and then hid his face in his hands.  “I didn’t know you’d want that,” he mumbled. 

 

“Is it okay that I do?” Shiro asked again, this time kissing along Keith’s chest.  

 

He whined again and nodded but didn’t manage anything further, and Shiro chuckled.  

 

“Next time, when you don’t have claws, you can help me with this, if you want to,” Shiro offered, coating his fingers with the slickness from Keith’s cock.  

 

“Can I watch?” Keith asked eagerly.

 

(Because of course he was too shy to properly respond to Shiro but was thoroughly capable of requesting utterly embarrassing things.)

 

Shiro turned around and presented himself to Keith’s curious gaze.  Cheeks flushed bright red, he spread the moisture across his hole and then began to tease himself open.  As he was straddled over Keith, there was a twitching cock in easy range, and why should he be the only one embarrassed, erm, enjoying himself?  He took Keith in his mouth just as he entered himself and moaned. 

 

And  _ god  _ it was fantastic—suckling on the smooth, warm head as he rocked back onto his fingers.  He hadn’t taken anything in ages and he was greedy for it, stuffing in more fingers as soon as he was able.  Keith’s cries of pleasure spurred him on, and he balanced himself on his knees so he could rub Keith’s cock with his free hand (and how unbearably wonderful to have two hands to use!).  The merman writhed under him and clawed hands gripped his calves. 

 

“Shi-iro,” Keith gasped.  “I like watching y-your fingers go in.  I wish it were me.” 

 

Shiro smirked and treated Keith to a particularly enthusiastic suck and bob of his head before popping off and glancing over his shoulder.  

 

“You want me to put your cock in my ass?” he teased, spreading his fingers and moaning for Keith’s benefit.

 

(Good god he was shameless for it right now.)

 

“I meant my fingers,” Keith squeaked.  “And I can’t right now with my cla—I hurt your legs!” he cried in horror, immediately releasing Shiro’s calves.

 

“It’s fine, love,” Shiro chuckled.  He turned around so he could offer Keith any comforts he might need. “I like it.  I like you marking me up, claiming me as yours.” 

 

Keith’s eyes were filled with heated awe, and the merman brushed his fingers reverently through Shiro’s hair.  “I want you to be mine,” Keith whispered. “I’m so greedy for you, Shiro. I want all of you to be mine.”

 

“I’m yours, baby.  All of me is yours,” Shiro promised.  “Let me show you.”

 

It was a little difficult to get started, but Shiro managed it.  He was on his knees, straddling Keith’s ribs, with his back bent.  He guided the massive cock to his hole and oh god the breach was almost enough on its own.  

 

“Help spread me,” he gasped, and Keith—being mindful of his claws this time—grasped the globes of his ass and held him apart.  

 

He took more.

 

His eyes fluttered as he eased in another few inches.  He would have bottomed out by now with a human and the thought made him shiver.  He put a hand on Keith’s chest to steady himself and took several deep breaths before working back a little further, taking in a little more.  He groaned and his head dropped.

 

“Are you okay?” Keith asked, worry heavy in his voice.  

 

“It’s so good, baby.  I want this,” Shiro said, his own voice weak.  “I just need a minute to relax.”

 

“You know you don’t need to for me,” Keith reminded him, still worried.  “I’ll finish. You feel  _ very  _ good on my penis and I like it.”

 

Shiro gave him a lopsided smile.  “Baby,  _ I _ want this.  For you, too, but I want more of you in me for me.  It feels good,” he promised. “It feels really good.”

 

It also burned, but not enough for Shiro to care.  The pressure to his prostate was amazing and he loved the feeling of being forced open.  He also loved that he had to  _ work  _ to take more of Keith in.

 

“I can help,” Keith offered.  “Here,” he said.

 

“Oh fuck  _ fuck _ ,” Shiro gasped.  He had no idea what Keith had done but it definitely wasn't press more in.  It felt like his cock had squirmed and it had been weirdest sensation of his life. “Shit, stop, oh  _ fuck _ .”

 

“Did I hurt you?” Keith panicked.

 

Shiro shook his head, struggling to catch his breath.  It wasn't exactly pleasurable in his abdomen, but lower...it had been  _ incredible _ .  “Just wasn't expecting it to feel like that,” he said.  “What were you doing?”

 

“I wiggled more in?” Keith said, like he was confused as to why Shiro didn’t know that.  

 

“Holy shit,” Shiro said.  “How much can you move it like that?  Not higher up—what can you do near my hole?”

 

Keith demonstrated.

 

Shiro’s breath felt like it was punched from his lungs.  Keith was snaking more cock into him while doing god-knows-what movement to his base and it was so fucking good.  His finger’s were digging deep into Keith’s sides and when Keith added a small thrust Shiro reared up, gasping. He let himself sink lower on the thick cock below, giving into gravity rather than lust because his thighs were shaking so badly from pleasure they threatened to fail him entirely.  

 

“Keith oh god fuck I’m sorry it’s so good I’m sorry,” Shiro cried, feeling the pleasure rise to unbearable proportions.  He stared down in shock as his cock shot long streaks high onto Keith chest, his orgasm slamming over him before he could stop it.  

 

“Why are you sorry?” Keith asked, sounding both worried and curious as he caught Shiro in his arms.

 

“I didn’t mean to come that fast,” Shiro said.  He squeezed his eyes shut and let himself be held to close by his lover.  Fuck, that was embarrassing.

 

Keith made a soft, pleased noise.  “You were so beautiful for me. You don’t need to apologize.  I’m glad you like my penis.”

 

(How was he so adorable?)

 

Keith nuzzled at the side of Shiro’s head.  “Can I stay in you for a while longer?”

 

Shiro roused himself.  “Of course you can, sweetheart.  I was hoping you’d want to finish in me, actually.  I just need to wait a little for things to be less sensitive.”

 

Keith’s eyes went wide.  “Tell me when,” he said with intense sincerity.  

 

Too cute.   _ Way  _ too cute.

 

Shiro leaned forward and kissed his nose.  “You can move now, if you start slow.”

 

Keith took Shiro’s words very thoroughly to heart, and he moved so slowly he was practically still.  Shiro took pity on him began to move his hips, teaching his lover his limits. He could feel more of Keith’s slick oozing from his hole and shivered, wondering just how stretched he was back there.  It would be a miracle if he could walk straight after this and he didn’t mind in the slightest.

 

“Sh-shiro you feel so good,” Keith whimpered.  “I want more.”

 

“Then take more, darling,” Shiro said.  “Take what you need. Fuck me.”

 

Keith bit his lip and started fucking in earnest.  His hair was strewn about him on the sand, freed of its braid, and his chest was flushed beautiful.  He was utterly breathtaking beneath Shiro, and the site made him pray silent gratitude that this man was his to love.  

 

“Shiro, p-please, put your fingers in me,” Keith begged.  

 

Shiro was further down his cock now, worked by Keith’s relentless thrusts, and he was weak with pleasure, hands roaming with desperate reverent.  “I’ll do better,” Shiro promised. He tilted his pelvis and aligned his cock with Keith’s slit. The merman groaned when he realized what Shiro was doing, and with a few quick thrusts Shiro’s hand and cock were fucking the warm, tight slight.

 

Shiro was sweating now and he had no idea how much cock was in him but god fuck Keith was fucking him _ into himself _ and Shiro was split and burning and he didn’t care.  Keith’s hands were scrambling over him, claws raking down his back, and his jaw was hanging open, emitting choked-off whines.  

 

“That’s it, baby.  Fuck me hard. Make me yours,” Shiro encouraged, wrecked voice cracking.  He was fisting his cock while inside Keith, trying to mimic the girth the merman would have gotten from his own species.  

 

Keith came with a loud cry, his warm cum shooting deep inside Shiro’s body in long waves.  His pulsing had Shiro emptying himself as well, their mutual pleasure bringing them both to bliss and then to each other’s lips as they sank from their highs and celebrated their love with slow kisses, satisfied at last.

  
  


~*~*~

  
  


Keith hummed happily and stroked Shiro’s hair as the human rested on his chest.  His cock was soft now but still inside his mate, and Keith loved it. He loved being close to Shiro in anyway he could get.  

 

“I want to apologize for something,” Shiro said.  His breath was warm on Keith’s chest, and his voice was soft and a little sad.  “I’m sorry that I’m not able to offer to become a merman so you can stay in the ocean.  Even though I wouldn’t be able to drown, I...I don’t think I could handle it.”

 

Keith hugged him close.  “I don’t mind at all,” he said.  “Being human is very interesting and you have people who need you.  My people can still visit me, but you wouldn’t be able to see yours.  And legs are fun,” he added. “They’re difficult, but you can hug with them.”

 

Shiro laughed softly and his sigh was close to happy.  They were quiet for a minutes, and Keith resumed his humming.

 

“I’m also sorry that you won’t be able to have sex in your real form,” Shiro said, breaking his silence.

 

Oh!  That thought brought up a worry.

 

“I’m sorry that my human penis is so much smaller,” he said sorrowfully.  “I hope our sex will still be good for you.”

 

Shiro laughed again, louder this time.  “It will. I promise.” He lifted himself up and kissed Keith on the mouth, and that was very acceptable.  

  
  


~*~*~

  
  


In the end, turning human was anti-climatic.  Keith sat on the shore next to Shiro, drank the potion, and less than half a minute was ready to cloth himself and walk on legs.  He’d tried to explain to Shiro that it wasn't a difficult transition, but Shiro had worried anyway (which was cute). Pidge was the one who managed to calm him down, explaining that all that mattered was that Keith have shoes nearby because he was “going to suck at walking again”.

 

Keith was proud to prove her wrong.

 

Now fully human, Keith was taken to the castle by a triumphant Shiro.  He was surprised to learn that Shiro was staying in Keith’s room, or rather that his room was Shiro’s old room, and that it was all very significant (according to Lance McClain).  Keith was already overjoyed to be back, and this new bit of information was almost too much to handle. Shiro was getting better! He turned shining eyes on the prince, who blushed and took his hand and looked away, bashful.  Lance McClain had explained that blushing meant he was embarrassed because he liked Keith so much he didn’t know what to do, and Keith determined the cure was kissing.

 

“Annnd that’s my cue to leave,” Lance McClain announced.  “You two have nice sex. By the way, welcome back, baby,” he added with a grin.  “The whole castle is glad you’re here again, and there’s going to be a party for you tomorrow.  In the meantime, I’ll make sure no one disturbs you. Good night!”

 

“Good night!” Keith said cheerfully.  

 

Shiro walked to the door as Lance McClain closed it and then locked it behind him.  His eyes were heated when he turned around to look at Keith.

 

“Sex?” Keith asked hopefully.

 

“Sex,” Shiro agreed.

 

Keith was eager for this.  He removed his clothing with admirable speed before hopping onto the bed, grinning at Shiro when the man laughed and shed his own clothes.  They had mated several times while Keith was still a mer, but human sex was far more interesting (and comfortable). There were more positions, for one thing, as legs provided many opportunities. 

 

(He was going to be the  _ best  _ with his legs.  And Hero had promised to help him practice!)

 

Keith greeted Shiro with happy kisses when he joined him on the bed.  Keith loved Shiro. Sex, he had learned, was very fun, but more than that it was loving.  It simply wasn't possible to express his love enough, but sex helped immensely. Touching Shiro made him smile deep in his eyes, and Keith was learning how to touch him even better.

 

Keith’s favorite touch was still kisses.  They were fascinating—they could mean so many things!   Hello or goodbye, good morning or good night, I’m scared, I missed you, I love you.  Keith had always been a curious mer and he was excited to learn the secrets of all kisses.

 

(And Hero seemed excited, too.)

 

Right now the kisses were ones that said I love you, I missed you, and I want you to touch me—all  _ very  _ good kisses, the kind that made clothes disappear and put hands in hair or on hips and pressed bodies close together.  They would become sex kisses, but right now they were warmth and reassurance and Keith was happy to echo each one as they lay together on their(!!) bed.

Shiro pulled back and smiled at him fondly, eyes gentle and hands sweet.  “This feels like a dream. I’ve wanted you in my bed since the moment I met you.  I never thought I could have that, and I never would’ve hoped to have you in my heart as well.  Tell me how I managed it. Whatever it is, I’ll do it every day for the rest of my life.”

 

It was such a grand thing to say, and Shiro always had nice speeches, and Keith could only fumble back his simple words and hope for the best, so he blushed very hard and said “I just love you because you’re you” and that worked, because Shiro’s kiss back said “Thank you”.

 

“How do you want to do it?” Shiro asked when their kisses slowed again.  “Do you want me in you this time?”

 

Keith nodded eagerly.  “And more than just fingers, please,” he said, trying to be polite but also feeling insistent.  It was what he  _ wanted _ .  “I want to have your penis inside me, even if that means things don’t rub the good place.  I want you in me.”

 

Shiro groaned in response.  “God, I want that too, baby.  I’ve wanted it for so long. I’ll do it right, too.  I’ll make sure I’m grinding into you so good you’ll be begging for more.”

 

Keith flushed at his words and bit his lip.  He had recently learned how nice begging and grinding could be.  This held a lot of promise. Still—

 

“All I need is you, baby,” he said sincerely.  

 

(It was important that Shiro know.)

 

This time, Keith helped Shiro with the work of opening himself.  He’d gotten to watch Shiro do it several times but had never had a chance to help, thanks to his claws.  Shiro had made it look fun, but Keith was not very impressed as he wiggled a finger inside. 

 

“What’s with your expression?” Shiro asked, mouth drawn suspiciously tight, as if he was holding in a laugh.

 

“You were enjoying it before, but this just feels weird.  You were so  _ loud _ ,” Keith explained.

 

“Ah, yes, well,” Shiro blushed, “I really enjoyed having you watch me, and sometimes it’s more about what is going to happen than what is actually happening.”

 

“Oh,” Keith said thoughtfully.  He could understand that. “You liked me watching?”

 

“It was embarrassing, but you were so eager to watch me touch myself like that and it made me feel wanted.  It’s, um, exciting to be watched,” Shiro said, his blush growing a titch darker. “How about you? Do you like me looking at you there?”

 

Keith had actually been trying hard not to think about it, because he was so exposed and having legs and things was new again and weird even if he liked them.  

 

“I might like it a little,” he admitted.  

 

Shiro made a pleased hum in his throat and he smoothed his hands over Keith’s thighs, nudging them just a little further apart.  

 

“I like watching you.  Your hole is so cute, and I like thinking about how it’s going to look stretched around me.  You’re doing such a good job with your finger. Do you think you can add another?”

 

And something about the look in Shiro’s eye and lower timbre of his voice made the touching suddenly much better.  Keith wanted to squirm away and shut his eyes but he could see the open want in Shiro’s face. He blushed, but he spread his legs wider as he touched a second finger to his rim.  It  _ was  _ good to be watched, and he panted a little as he pressed the finger in.

 

“How do you feel?” Shiro asked, leaning down to kiss Keith’s hip.

 

“I-it’s nice w-when you watch,” he said.  

 

“I’m glad,” Shiro murmured.  “Tell me if this is good, too.”  

 

Shiro kissed his way down to Keith’s hole and then licked him.  Keith gasped a startled cry and stopped pumping his fingers, but Shiro nudged him with his nose and prompted him to continue.  As Keith’s fingers resumed their work, Shiro licked along beside them, teasing his rim. It made him want more—more fingers, more tongue, more  _ anything _ .

 

“Nngh, Shiro, I want you,” Keith begged.  Oh. Begging already. 

 

(This could end up being very,  _ very  _ good.)

 

“Pull your fingers out, baby.  Let me see how you’re doing,” Shiro said, and Keith obediently pulled his fingers free.  He felt  _ empty  _ without them, but Shiro carefully filled him again and it was good.  “Mmm, you’re doing well,” Shiro murmured. “Do you think you’re ready for another?”

 

Once again, Keith nodded eagerly.  He was greedy—he wanted as much of Shiro as he could take, and the prince blushed when he told him so.

 

“Okay, sweetheart.  That’s three fingers.  How are you feeling?” Shiro asked.  He was moving his hand in some painfully delicious way, barely teasing at the wonderful spot and Keith could cry from how much he desperately needed more.  

 

“Please,” Keith said, begging again.  “Shiro, I  _ need  _ you.  Please, enter me.  It feels so good and I need you inside me.  I need  _ more _ .”

 

Shiro kissed him as he pulled his fingers free, kissed him as he slicked up his cock, and kissed him as he pushed in.  Keith gasped at the stretch, but he loved it and when Shiro asked in concern if he was alright, Keith wrapped his arms tighter and kissed up and down his mate’s neck until Shiro laughed softly.

 

“I take it everything is okay then,” he smiled.  “I’m going to start moving now—let me know if anything hurts.”

 

It didn’t hurt.  In fact, it was very much the opposite.  Why was being stretched down there so good?  It wasn't like the tingling desire that came from touching other places, but it was satisfying a need he didn’t know he’d had and Keith groaned.  

 

Shiro was going so slow that Keith wondered for a moment if he was simply being careful, but then he realized that Shiro was keeping it a pace where they could still kiss each other, and that was more than acceptable.  The more places they could be connected, the better, and it added another layer to their passion: it was sharp heat and soft warmth in the same breath. Keith wanted to curl up in the feeling and never leave. 

 

“You’re amazing, baby,” Shiro said with breathless awe.  “You have no idea how good you feel for me.”

 

And that was it—all Keith ever wanted.  He wanted for Shiro to feel good and if, possible, to be the reason behind it.  He was happy enough to cry but too overcome with mounting pleasure to do more than gasp Shiro’s name, and god it was almost unbearable how good it felt to be open and full and vulnerable and held.  He was so cherished, drowning in love, and still the pleasure burned hotter. 

 

“Beautiful, so beautiful,” Shiro said, pressing fervent kisses to Keith’s neck.  “I’m going to harder now, baby.” 

 

Shiro pulled back and rearranged himself so he was on his knees and could better direct Keith’s hips, and oh god when he pressed back in he hit the  _ spot  _ and it was so, so  _ good _ .  It wasn't fair how good he felt because Keith could only cling to the sheets and cry out as he took and took and  _ took  _ and he couldn’t even tell Shiro how good it was but oh, the look on his face—flushed and proud and full of love—he must have known anyway.

 

“ _ Keith _ ,” Shiro gasped, “Keith you’re—”  He groaned, words swallowed, and he was perfect.  He was more than Keith could have known to want and he was radiantly beautiful when pleasure was overtaking him like this.  “Fuck, baby, touch yourself for me.”

 

Keith obediently wrapped around himself and it was so good he really did start to cry.  His heels were digging desperately into Shiro’s back, trying to pull him even closer, and he needed him, needed more, and his hand left the sheets to reach blindly for his lover, and somehow Shiro caught up, threaded them together, and that was it.  Keith came silently, back arching high and eyes streaming tears. Shiro followed, hips stuttering and then slamming deep, and he bent over Keith as he spent himself inside him. 

 

It was heaven, and Keith held Shiro to him until his lover went soft.

  
  


~*~*~

  
  


“You’re beautiful,” Shiro murmured as he played his fingers through Keith’s soft hair.  He was a little worried he said it too often, but Keith always looked so pleased that he must in the clear for now.  He always meant it, too. He was hopelessly beautiful, even more so when he was still flushed from sex, lips red from kisses.  

 

Keith smiled, shy and happy.  “You too,” he said, tapping Shiro’s shoulder.  “You’re beautiful.” 

 

Shiro could have lain like that all night, simply watching Keith, but he had something planned and, as nervous as he was to do it, he knew it would make Keith happy.

 

“I’ve been working on something for you, sweetheart,” he said.  “Is it okay if I show you?”

 

Keith was instantly transformed from pliant sleepiness to alert eagerness and Shiro had to smile at the boy’s delight at the prospect of a  _ present _ .  He slipped from their bed, tugged a felt glove onto his metal hand, and returned with the red flute.  Keith’s eyes grew wide with shock.

 

“Are you going to…?” he whispered.

 

“Play for you?” Shiro smiled.  “Yes, I am.” He was trembling slightly, but there was something so natural in music that he held the instrument admirably still as he brought it to his lips.

 

He began to play.

  
  


~*~*~

  
  


It was only a few lines, sweet and simple, but they were  _ Hero’s  _ song.  They were the heart and soul that he had fallen in love with, and if they were not as clear and steady as the once had been, it didn’t matter.  They were Hero. They were perfect.

 

When he set down the flute, Shiro’s eyes were shining.  “I love you, Keith,” he said softly. “Thank you for coming into my life.”

 

And Keith knew Shiro meant it, too, because when Keith flung his arms around him and kissed his lips, Shiro’s kisses said “I’m happy”—

 

—the very best kisses of all.

  
  
  


 

 

And they banged happily ever after.  The end. <3

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s right, ladies and gentlemen: Shiro came just from sitting on Keith’s cock. Keith and his self-lubricating, vibrating, giant dick. He never stood a chance, smh. He could have gotten his hand in pretty much right away, btw, but Keith was nervous and clenching. It’s not *that* tight. Nervous boi. SOFT BOI.
> 
> Coran is the witch. Because reasons. I mean, I love him, so he should be here somewhere, and he’s So Extra and just urgh. I love him. 
> 
> Shiro does get a lot better. He sails again on small boats (when Keith is there) and visits a few of the nearby ports, but he never goes back the capital city. He learns to be okay with it--especially once his family members finally come visit him and he gets to meet his nieces and nephews. It helps that they have son-in-law/brother-in-law/uncle they need to meet. :) And yes--they get married!!!! Keith wasn't really familiar with the concept but he was fucking ecstatic once Shiro explained what he was doing when he tried to propose, lol. (Shiro did have to explain that he already considered them “mates” but wanted to be able to call Keith his husband because that was the word humans would understand and this way they could throw a big party. Keith was especially happy about the party. They end up having more balls--they don’t always invite the fancy humans.)
> 
> Keith ages at the rate of a human, which is what he was hoping for. He didn’t want to outlive Shiro and I’m not a *complete* asshole of a writer. Krolia is a little sad about it, but mostly she’s just happy for her sons. She loves them and calls them both “son” and can tell Shiro makes Keith really happy. They do eventually tell the uncles (who aren’t surprised). They aren’t as impressed with Shiro as Keith is lol, but they like him alright. If they encounter his private boat they will pop up and say hi sometimes. 
> 
> Btw, if you want to say that Shiro got better about swimming to the point that he could handle being a merman, that’s fine. Realistically (lmao realism in a merman fic), I think he wouldn’t, but isn’t it nice to think of Keith taking him around all eager and happy to show him his favorite reefs and whatnot? Plus: more mer sex. Good times! And frankly, I’m totally cool with people having their head canons of my fics. It’s more fun that way. :)
> 
> My husband told me I should try to get this story published (changing the names, of course) and I’m considering it. I want to be a published author, after all, and this fic is pretty close to being the length of an actual novel (dear god in heaven). Plus, now that I have it done, there’s stuff I would change or explore more, etc. I dunno. They would probably have me 1) delete this online version and 2) make the smut less...smutty. But a gay romance novel? Awesome. I’d be fine with dropping the smut if they marketed it to teens because you know what gay teens don’t have enough of? Happy romance novels. So yeah. Something I’m considering. Plus, I’d get to have a demi-sexual! That’s not really shown in any kind of romance, so how awesome would that be?
> 
> (New campaign: give teens more happy lgbt romances!!! The gay experience is frequently negative during the teen years ‘cause high school is a bitch and there’s nothing wrong with realistic stories, but let’s get sappy and sweet sometimes, too.)
> 
> I’m sorry this took so long. It’s sort of amazing just how badly S8 fucked me up. I’m only just now able to write softer stuff again. Just. Why. Why the hell would you isolate Shiro like that? You out him to the audience and suddenly the most meaningful relationship of his life is just...gone. God forbid a homosexual man have a close, emotional, affectionate friendship (or more) with another man. It literally makes me physically sick to think about. Unbelievably homophobic, and of course DreamWorks has been silent despite 27k fans asking for answers and the un-edited season. 
> 
> Important side note: I just realized a huge portion of Keith’s desire to be human is because of legs and sex and that makes me a very happy writer. 10/10, best motivation.
> 
> So yeah. This is the biggest fic I've ever written and I'm frankly pretty fucking proud of myself. And, holy shit, I have NO IDEA how I got the best readers in the words, but y'all have never demanded updates and just wow. Thank you, thank you, thank you for supporting me. And also: more Shiro the Hero incoming soon. ;3
> 
> Oh!!! And did you notice this went from 17 chapters down to 15? That's because the Krolia and Plance things will be posted as part 2 and 3 of the series. Y'all know I won't keep them to one chapter each, smh. Not capable of that. Yup.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, my feisty lovelies! As always, feel free to send me anon asks or DM me on my [ tumblr](https://decidedlysarah.tumblr.com)


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